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Cibrarp  of  'the  theological  Seminary 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of  the 
Rev.  John  B.  Wiedinger 

3X  7233  . K5 5  G7  1923  ^ 

Killis ,  Newell  Dwight,  1858H 
1929 

The  great  refusal,  and  other 
...pyanap  1  1  i  r  gprmnng _ I” 


a 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/greatrefusalotheOOhill 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


By 

NEWELL  DWIGHT  HILLIS 

The  Great  Refusal 

And  Other  Evangelistic  Sermons. 

A  Man  s  Value  to  Society 

Studies  in  Self-Culture  and  Character. 

The  Investment  of  Influence 

Studies  in  Social  Sympathy  and  Service. 

Great  Books  as  Life-Teachers 

Studies  of  Character,  Real  and  Ideal. 

The  Contagion  of  Character 

Studies  in  Culture  and  Success. 

Great  Men  as  Prophets  of  a  New  Era 
Studies  in  Personality  and  Power. 

The  Battle  of  Principle 

Heroism  and  Eloquence  of  Anti-Slavery 
Conflict. 

German  Atrocities 

The  Blot  on  the  Kaiser  s  'Scutcheon 

Rebuilding  Europe  in  the  Face  of  World-  Wide 
Bolshevism 

All  the  Year  Round 

Sermons  for  Church  and  Civic  Celebrations. 

BOOKLETS 
Foretokens  of  Immortality 
How  the  Inner  Light  Failed 
Right  Living  as  a  Fine  Art 
The  Master  of  the  Science  of  Right  Living 
The  School  in  the  Home 

EDITED  BY  DOCTOR  HILLIS 
Lectures  and  Orations  by  Henry  Ward  Beecher 


The  Great  Ref 


AND  OTHER  EVANGELISTIC  SERMONS 


By 

NEWELL  DWIGHT  HILLIS 


New  York  Chicago 

Fleming  H.  Re  veil  Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1923,  by 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London :  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh :  75  Princes  Street 


F  ore  word 


AMONG  the  difficulties  of  present-day  preach¬ 
ing  is  the  fact  that  the  press,  the  platform, 
the  college,  even  business  and  finance,  have 
become  competitors  of  the  pulpit.  Centuries  ago  the 
people  of  ancient  Israel  overheard  Saul,  the  son  of 
Kish,  warning  a  group  of  servants  that  it  was  folly 
to  make  war  upon  God.  In  their  astonishment, 
the  people  exclaimed,  “  Is  Saul  also  among  the 
prophets  ?  ”  It  is  a  distinct  gain  for  society  that 
laymen  are  warning  our  people  against  lawlessness, 
luxury,  and  frivolity,  since  any  movement  that  calls 
the  people  back  to  the  faith  of  the  founders  and 
fathers,  makes  for  social  betterment.  One  ,thing, 
however,  is  still  left  to  the  preacher, — moral  pas¬ 
sion,  passion  for  men,  and  it  is  this  passion  that 
turns  the  pulpit  into  a  throne.  In  the  belief  that  the 
issues  of  life  and  death  for  modern  society  are  in 
the  pulpit,  John  Ruskin  once  called  the  sermon, 
“  thirty  minutes  to  raise  the  dead  in.” 

These  sermons  are  sparks  struck  out  on  the  anvil 
of  events.  They  are  here  given  as  they  were 
spoken.  In  his  book,  The  Black  Arrow ,  Stevenson 
tells  us  that  a  soldier  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  fitted 
his  arrow  to  the  bow,  and  let  the  shaft  fly  against 
the  enemy,  without  stopping  to  ask  whether  the 
point  was  polished,  or  the  feathers  beautiful. 
These  chapters,  plain,  simple  and  unadorned,  repre- 

5 


6 


FOREWORD 


sent  addresses  that  were  given  in  the  hope  of  win¬ 
ning  an  immediate  decision,  and  inducing  some 
noble  youth  to  burn  his  bridges  behind  him,  and  to 
swear  instant  fidelity  to  the  convictions  of  the 
Christian  religion,  for  God’s  sake  and  for  man’s. 


Plymouth  Church, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


N.  D.  H. 


Contents 


I.  The:  Great  Reeusar  ....  9 

Matt,  xix:  22 

II.  What  Ie  Arr  God's  Giets  Be  In 

Vain? . 27 

Gal.  iv:  11 

III.  Messengers  at  the  Gate  .  .  .44 

II  Chron.  xxxvi; 

IV.  Hours  When  Men  Go  Down  .  .  58 

Gen.  xxv :  29-33 

V.  The  Breeding  Vine  .  .  .  .72 

Luke  vii:  38,  39,  50 

VI.  Some  Who  Are  Oeeended  .  .  87 

Mark  vi:  3 

VII.  The  Beauty  oE  the  Christian  Liee  .  99 
Phil,  iv:  8 

VIII.  Man's  Greatest  JJeed  ' .  v  .  .112 

John  x: 10 

IX.  Keeping  Faith  With  Our  Fathers  .  127 
I  Tim.  vi:  20 

X.  The  Lost  Riches  oe  the  World  .  142 
Matt,  vi:  19 

XI.  What  Ie  Christ  Had  Never  Been?  .  155 
I  Cor.  xv :  13,  19 

7 


8  CONTENTS 

XII.  The  Unexpected  Visitations  op 

God . 168 

Luke  xix:  44 

XIII.  No  Cueture  Without  Study,  No 

Character  Without  Worship  /.  183 
Luke  iv:  16 

XIV.  What  Ip  This  Year  Be  the  Bast?  .  197 

Jer.  xxviii;  16 


I 

THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


"  When  the  young  man  heard  that  saying,  he  went 
away  sorrowful.”-— Matt,  xix :  22. 

HE  rich  young  ruler  is  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  figures  in  the  New  Testament. 
In  disposition  he  was  most  lovable,  in  man¬ 
ners  most  attractive,  in  manhood  most  praise¬ 
worthy.  He  had  the  serious  temper,  also,  that  is 
the  first  sign  of  greatness  in  youth.  He  was  rev¬ 
erent  in  spirit,  he  had  a  hungry  mind,  he  was  eager, 
ingenuous  and  courteous,  being  altogether  ad¬ 
mirable.  From  the  moment  Jesus  saw-  him,  the 
Master  loved  this  rich,  young  ruler.  Indeed,  the 
words  that  describe  His  affection  for  the  youth  are 
the  words  used  to  describe  His  love  for  John,  the 
Beloved  Disciple.  There  are  two  kinds  of  friend¬ 
ship  ;  there  is  an  exterior  friendship  based  on 
neighbourhood,  commercial  partnership  or  political 
plans;  there  is  an  interior  friendship,  in  which  two 
men  sympathise  along  the  same  lines,  enjoy  the 
same  intellectual  tastes,  hate  the  same  wrong's; 
cherish  the  same  political  and  moral  ideals;  then 
friends  coalesce  like  drops  of  water,  becoming  one. 
Jesus  first  tested  this  youth,  to  make  sure  of  his 
worth,  and  then,  widening  His  little  inner  circle, 
made  a  place  for  this  young  ruler. 

9 


10 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


Every  generation  has  one  outstanding  figure. 
When  this  young  Carpenter,  who  held  the  heart  of 
the  people  in  His  hand,  made  an  overture  of  friend¬ 
ship  to  the  rich  young  ruler,  what  an  opportunity 
was  that  which  passed  before  the  ambitious  youth! 
Addressing  his  judges,  Socrates  exclaimed:  “At 
what  price  would  one  not  estimate  an  hour’s  con¬ 
verse  with  Homer  or  Hesiod!  ”  But  at  what  price 
would  a  youth,  who  aspired  to  be  a  leader  of  his 
time,  not  estimate  the  opportunity  of  daily  converse 
with  the  greatest  religious  leader  of  any  age  or 
clime!  Jesus  was  the  one  man  of  moral  genius  of 
His  epoch!  What  an  overture  was  His  to  this 
youth  to  become  one  of  the  charter  members  and 
founders  of  Christ’s  “  Beloved  Society,”  His 
“  League  of  Pity,”  an  institution  destined  to  out¬ 
live  all  the  cities  and  empires  of  that  era!  One 
would  have  rejoiced  to  have  seen  the  young  ruler 
rise  up,  fling  away  his  baubles,  forsake  all  and  fol¬ 
low  this  Master  to  influence,  fame  and  blessing. 
But  something  blinded  his  eyes,  and  cast  a  glam¬ 
our  over  his  vision.  The  jewel  slipped  between 
his  fingers.  He  tossed  the  gold  away.  It  is  as 
Dante  has  said :  “  Who  is  that  nameless  one, 
gnawed  with  remorse  ?  ”  While  Virgil  answers : 
“Let  us  flee!  That  is  the  youth  who  made  the 
Great  Refusal.” 

Consider  the  reasonableness  of  Christ’s  com¬ 
mand.  It  was  not  a  question  of  the  rich,  young 
ruler’s  salvation,  but  of  his  perfection  and  world¬ 
wide  influence.  Ambitious  for  spiritual  supremacy, 
the  youth  asked,  “  What  shall  I  do  to  be  perfect  ?  ” 
For  this  was  one  of  those  noble  and  occasional 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


11 


spirits  not  content  with  the  better,  but  longing  for 
the  best.  It  is  one  thing  to  be  saved,  so  as  by  fire. 
It  is  quite  another  thing  to  come  home  like  a  prince 
from  victorious  wars,  when  all  the  hosts  come  out 
to  meet  and  greet  the  leader.  No  question  about 
his  integrity;  he  had  kept  all  the  commandments 
from  his  youth  up.  The  problem  was  a  problem 
of  influence,  how  to  make  his  gold,  offices  and  hon¬ 
ours  to  journey  out  into  all  the  world.  Jesus  was 
showing  him  how  to  make  his  name  immortal,  how 
to  make  his  influence  shine  like  a  star,  that  would 
never  die  out  of  the  world’s  sky.  He  bade  him  do 
the  rare,  wonderful  and  godlike  thing.  The  youth 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  gifted  souls 
who  can  sacrifice  and  lift  themselves  up,  one 
able  to  dwell  apart  from  and  above  his  fellows. 
But  when  he  had  gazed  upon  the  vision  of  ideal 
perfection  and  immortal  influence,  the  young  man 
stood  long  in  silence,  and  then,  wistfully,  shook  his 
head,  and  sorrowfully  went  away. 

It  is  said  that  “  he  yyas  sorrowful  ” — not  startled, 
not  angry,  not  embittered.  His  reason  approved 
Christ’s  counsel — otherwise  he  would  have  contra¬ 
dicted  Jesus.  His  judgment  affirmed  the  practi¬ 
cability  of  Jesus,  otherwise  he  would  have  gone 
away  mocking  the  dreamer.  But  Jesus  was  right. 
His  own  heart  condemned  him.  At  last,  silently 
and  sadly,  the  youth  turned  away. 

Having  made  overtures  to  rude  fishermen,  pub¬ 
licans  and  peasants,  Jesus  now  makes  an  overture 
to  a  youth  of  wealth,  address,  of  office  and  social 
position.  He  plans  to  bring  an  entirely  new  ele¬ 
ment  into  the  apostolic  band.  “If  thou  wilt  be 


12  THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 

perfect  (not  if  thou  wilt  be  saved),  go  and  sell  all 
that  thou  hast,  and  distribute  to  the  poor — then 
come  and  follow  me.”  To  understand  the  genius 
of  the  overture  we  must  translate  the  command  into 
terms  of  modern  life.  Let  us  seek  out  in  thought 
the  son  of  some  modern  multi-millionaire,  repre¬ 
senting  railways  or  oil  or  steel.  Let  his  annual 
income  amount  to  millions,  as  a  few  there  are 
today.  Let  the  youth,  restless  in  his  silken  palace, 
cast  about  for  a  higher  life.  In  obedience  to  the 
heavenly  vision,  suppose  this  rich  young  American 
should  appear  some  morning  in  the  directors’  room 
of  a  great  corporation  and  say :  “  I  wish  my  one 
hundred  million  dollar  fortune  to  be  set  aside  in  the 
interest  of  the  ten  thousand  workmen  in  our  shops. 
Let  all  the  dividends  for  myself  be  distributed  to 
the  workingmen  as  weekly  wages.”  Then  suppose 
the  youth  should  sell  his  father’s  palace  and  live 
himself  in  one  of  the  company’s  houses,  all  bare, 
gaunt  and  squalid.  Suppose  also  that  in  the  spirit, 
not  of  paternalism,  but  of  fraternalism,  not  of 
lordly  benevolence,  but  of  true  brotherliness,  that 
this  youth  should  become  the  burden  bearer  for 
these  poor  people,  being  medicine  for  their  sickness, 
staff  for  their  weakness,  a  comforter  in  their  sor¬ 
rows.  And  when,  having  broken  his  very  life  for 
them,  the  youth  falls  on  death,  it  will  be  for  these 
thousands  of  workingmen  as  if  the  sun  itself  were 
eclipsed,  and  joy  had  been  struck  dead. 

Now  there  can  be  only  one  result — these  working 
people  will  take  their  children  to  his  grave,  to  whis¬ 
per  his  name,  to  tell  the  story  of  his  beauty,  to 
pledge  their  boys  to  emulate  his  life.  Would  not 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


13 


our  world  then  have  another  name  to  charm  by? 
Would  not  the  name  of  this  youth  become  a  guid¬ 
ing  star  for  the  pilgrim  host  ?  And  his  influence  be 
like  a  bow  bent  to  send  his  teachings  straight  into 
the  hearts  of  men?  One  such  deed  in  American 
society  would  recivilise  this  nation,  and  transform 
the  ideals  of  our  generation.  There  are  a  hundred 
heirs  to  vast  American  fortunes  today,  but  where 
is  there  one  of  whom  Dante  will  not  have  to  say, 
“  When  some  among  them  I  had  recognised,  I  be¬ 
held  among  them  him  who,  through  cowardice, 
made  the  Great  Refusal?  ”  Now,  this  was  exactly 
what  Christ  asked  the  rich  young  ruler  to  do.  Had 
that  rich  young  ruler  followed  Jesus,  who,  being 
rich,  for  our  sakes  made  Himself  poor,  orators 
would  have  winged  their  arrows  with  his  name, 
poets  would  have  adorned  their  pages  with  his  ex¬ 
ample,  statesmen  would  have  used  his  career  as  an 
inspiration  for  reform,  millions  of  men  would  have 
gone  to  him  for  help  and  guidance,  as  pilgrims  turn 
toward  a  fountain  bubbling  in  a  desert,  or  a  date 
palm  waving  in  the  wilderness.  He  threw  away 
his  opportunity,  therefore  Dante  placed  him  among 
“  the  exiles  of  eternity.” 

For  Jesus,  living  was  a  very  serious  business. 
The  pursuit  of  perfection  was  life’s  supreme  end, 
and  surrender  to  the  right  the  one  secret  of  happi¬ 
ness.  “  Go  sell  all,  give  to  the  poor.  Come,  follow 
me,  and  together  we  will  go  about  and  do  good.” 
Choose  between  life  on  the  one  hand,  and  martyr¬ 
dom  like  Paul’s  on  the  other.  The  choice  is  clear, 
definite  and  final.  Paul  had  to  decide,  and  he  for¬ 
sook  his  father’s  house,  his  office  in  the  Sanhedrim, 


14 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


his  wealth  and  friends,  and  followed  Christ,  to 
mobs  in  Ephesus,  stones  in  Lystra  and  the  heads¬ 
man’s  axe  in  Rome.  For  reward  Christ  gave  Paul 
a  thousandfold  more  through  happiness  in  the  life 
that  now  is,  and  influence  through  the  next  nine¬ 
teen  centuries.  Polycarp  had  his  choice  between 
dying  in  his  bed,  and  the  martyr’s  funeral  pile;  he 
chose  the  chariot  of  flame,  and  that  is  why  his 
name  still  is  a  beacon  fire  across  the  sea  of  time. 
Galileo  had  to  make  his  choice — the  rack  on  the  one 
side,  science  and  the  moving  sun  on  the  other,  and 
Galileo  chose. 

What?  Hate  one’s  own  family!  This  is  un¬ 
natural,  cruel  and  against  the  higher  reason.  But 
yesterday  when  that  mother  returned  to  find  the 
house  in  flames  and  realised  that  her  babe  was 
sleeping  in  the  cradle,  she  flung  aside  the  neigh¬ 
bours  who  restrained  her,  pushed  back  the  older 
children  who  clutched  at  her  garments,  hated  the 
officer  who  was  a  barrier  between  herself  and  her 
babe,  and  forsook  all  to  follow  her  child,  and  snatch 
it  from  the  jaws  of  death,  and  bring  it  to  safety. 
It  was  this  hating  her  stronger  children  for  the 
moment  that  saved  the  weaker  babe,  and  makes  the 
mother’s  name  and  deed  divine.  What?  Hate 
your  own  household?  When  this  splendid  youth, 
living  in  his  father’s  mansion,  the  favourite  of 
society,  who  has  a  golden  key  for  the  door  to  all 
great  houses  and  is  sought  for  everywhere,  finds  a 
true  daughter  of  the  people,  and  loves  her,  and 
wakens  from  his  dream  to  discover  that  his  wealthy 
parents  say  “  No,  she  is  of  a  lower  station,”  and 
his  friends  whisper,  “  It  will  never  do,”  and  advise 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


15 


caution  and  prudence — does  not  the  man,  if  there 
is  a  spark  of  manhood  in  him,  rise  up,  shake  off  all 
restraints,  become  the  builder  of  his  own  fortune, 
and  the  author  of  a  happiness  beyond  all  dreams, 
simply  because  he  obeys  the  highest  law,  the  law 
of  love?  This  is  praiseworthy  in  daily  life.  It  is 
also  admirable  and  divine  when  Christ  commands 
men  so  to  do. 

But  just  what  the  rich  ruler  declined  to  do,  Jesus 
did.  With  divine  forethought  Jesus  laid  out  the 
plan  of  His  life,  and  adhered  inflexibly  to  that 
plan.  Influence  must  be  achieved.  Fame  is  bought 
at  great  price.  The  man  who  would  have  a  name 
that  the  world  would  not  willingly  let  die,  must  pay 
for  what  he  wants.  The  law  of  compensation  for¬ 
bids  deceit  in  this  matter  of  influence.  Jesus  stood 
up  against  the  storm  of  temptation  and  sin,  took  all 
the  blows,  suffered  the  bruises,  was  marred  in  His 
face,  pierced  in  His  body,  crushed  and  broken  in¬ 
side  and  out,  but  He  never  flinched  from  His  duty. 
He  did  right,  always  right;  He  sacrificed,  always 
sacrificed;  He  served  others,  never  Himself;  He 
died  subduing  His  pain  and  praying  for  His  ene¬ 
mies,  and  so  bought  the  Name  that  is  above  every 
name.  No  candidate  for  influence  can  achieve  su¬ 
premacy  over  men's  minds  and  hearts,  in  any  other 
way  than  Christ’s  way.  Experts  can  juggle  coin 
out  of  other  men’s  pockets  into  their  own,  but  there 
are  no  tricks  by  which  men  can  have  ease  and,  by 
juggling,  secure  influence.  No  virtue  unasked 
comes  knocking  at  man’s  door  trying  to  force  an 
entrance.  No  heroism  comes  unurged,  for  men  do 
not  fall  heir  to  influence.  Perfection  costs,  even  in 


16 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


the  lower  realms.  The  great  singer  is  Dorn  with  a 
high  dome  in  his  throat,  and  with  flexible  vocal 
chords,  but  for  ten  years  he  must  work  like  a 
slave,  and,  as  an  artist,  toil  on  to  keep  the  voice 
he  has  built.  Is  the  youth  ambitious  for  fame  as 
an  artist?  Then  hard  work  is  her  only  hope. 

Remember  Millet  and  Turner,  their  poverty, 
their  drudgery,  the  thousands  of  canvases  they 
destroyed,  the  rising  at  daylight,  the  night  falling 
to  find  them  still  at  their  task;  the  broken  health, 
the  unappreciative  public,  then  sudden  darkness  and 
death,  and  still  no  recognition!  Ah!  but  they  had 
the  consciousness  of  perfection,  and  knew  they  had 
founded  a  great  school  and  that  the  time  would 
come  when  nations  would  compete  for  a  canvas. 
For  each  Millais  and  Turner  it  pays  to  sell  all  their 
goods  and  follow  the  arts,  for  the  sake  of  perfect 
beauty  and  truth.  There  is  nothing  great  in  man 
but  his  soul.  The  candidate  for  immortal  fame, 
— Milton,  Scott,  or  Stevenson, — must  be  willing  to 
slave  for  perfection  in  his  art;  and  think  you  that 
character  is  not  something  worth  struggling  for 
unto  blood  and  death?  Why,  a  great  poem  or 
statue,  a  great  drama  or  cathedral  are  rags  over 
against  the  gold  and  ivory  of  truth  and  justice, 
purity  and  love.  The  one  candidate  ends  his  career, 
saying,  “  Here  is  my  book  ” ;  another,  “  Here  is 
my  song  ” ;  another,  “  Here  is  my  loom  and  ship  ” ; 
another,  “  Here  is  my  law.”  At  last  one  comes 
saying,  “  Here  are  thy  little  ones,  redeemed.  I 
have  been  so  busy  saving  them  that  I  have  had  no 
chance  to  save  my  own  soul,  and  I  am  not  worthy 
to  come  in.”  And  lo,  this  one  hath  an  abundant 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


17 


entrance,  for  at  great  price  hath  he  bought  his  in¬ 
fluence  and  his  salvation. 

When  Jesus  commanded  this  youth  to  seek 
righteousness  and  character  first,  and  gold  and 
office  and  pleasure  afterward,  He  emphasized  a 
principle  that  our  generation  needs  to  ponder  and 
obey.  Our  people  are  all  but  insane  in  their  wild 
pursuit  of  show,  equipage,  and  sensuous  delights. 
The  orgies  of  our  New  Year’s  Eve  celebration  are 
beginning  to  be  commented  upon  even  in  foreign 
countries.  An  English  traveller,  describing  what 
he  saw  in  the  New  York  hotels,  says  that  Ameri¬ 
cans  have  outdone  Lucullus,  the  Sybarite,  with  his 
feasts,  and  that  the  only  thing  he  missed  in  New 
York  restaurants  was  the  emetic  and  the  second 
dinner.  A  New  York  chef,  whose  salary  makes  the 
pay  of  our  Supreme  Court  judges,  our  governors 
and  our  educators  seem  paltry,  is  now  in  despair 
because  he  fears  our  feasts  have  reached  their  limit. 
He  can  conceive  of  no  more  decorations,  he  can 
discover  no  new  meats,  he  knows  no  new  drinks, 
for  the  goal  has  been  reached.  But  in  Paris  they 
have  tried  a  new  way  to  intensify  the  taste  of 
rich  foods. 

These  epicureans,  whose  supreme  pursuit  is 
fleshly  pleasure,  have  connected  the  diners  and  the 
foods  with  electric  wires,  and  a  gentle  voltage 
passing  through  the  food  and  the  tongue  has  in¬ 
tensified  the  taste,  making  the  wines  richer,  the 
ices  sweeter,  the  nectarine  more  delicious.  But  the 
result  was  what  might  have  been  expected.  The 
next  day  all  foods  for  the  Sybarite  were  tasteless 
as  sawdust.  Eong  time  passed  before  the  tongue 


18 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


recovered  its  normal  power.  To  such  an  extreme 
has  our  generation  come  through  the  pursuit  of 
rich  foods,  beautiful  dress,  brilliant  equipage,  show 
and  splendour.  Nothing  is  more  trite  than  for  me 
to  say  that  any  man  who  spent  $20  on  his  New 
Year’s  dinner  would  have  had  far  higher  pleasure 
to  have  sought  out  some  poor  seamstress,  working 
for  a  sweater,  and  purchased  for  the  widow  and 
her  little  children,  flour  and  bread  and  meat  that 
would  have  fed  the  orphans  for  a  month,  and 
brought  a  burst  of  sunshine  into  a  dark  tenement. 
Sensualism  never  pays.  Epicureanism  is  a  lie. 
Show  and  glitter  burn  the  soul  like  sulphuric  acid 
sprinkled  on  roses  and  lilies.  Character  is  first, 
then  pleasure,  office  and  honour.  If  the  fathers 
have  tried  the  life  of  the  Sybarite  and  broken  their 
hearts  why  should  the  children  take  the  same  cup 
of  flame  into  their  hands  and  break  their  hearts? 
Strange  that  two  generations  insist  on  stubbing 
their  toes  on  the  same  obstruction  in  life’s  path! 
The  body  is  not  a  sensual  harp,  with  physical  nerves 
that  are  strings  to  be  played  upon  by  Bacchus  and 
Venus.  It  is  a  mere  under-servant,  whose  strength 
is  to  be  translated  into  terms  of  service  by  those 
goddesses  named  the  Angel  of  Sacrifice,  the  Angel 
of  Suffering,  the  Angel  of  Humility  and  the 
Angel  of  Love. 

At  first  blush,  the  rich  young  ruler  seems  to  have 
acted  upon  considerations  of  prudence  and  sound 
judgment.  For  the  moment  it  seemed  as  if  Jesus 
were  asking  him  to  wreck  his  whole  earthly  career. 
The  gist  of  the  matter  is  in  this — he  must  have  had 
notable  gifts  of  mind  and  disposition,  but,  being 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


19 


young,  he  had  become  a  ruler  because  he  was  rich. 
Tradition  and  precedent  had  decreed  that  only  old 
men  could  be  rulers,  in  Israel.  But  this  rich  young 
ruler  had  turned  longing  eyes  toward  the  San¬ 
hedrim.  So  skilfully  had  he  handled  his  gold,  his 
social  position  and  political  influence,  that  all  prece¬ 
dents  were  overthrown,  and  he  was  made  a  ruler. 
And  yet  spiritual  supremacy  asked  for  the  mellow 
judgment,  the  ripe  reason,  and  the  gentle  spirit. 
Some  things  cannot  be  forced — the  ripening  of 
wheat,  the  mellowing  of  apples,  the  maturing  of 
souls.  A  young  judge  can  condemn  a  criminal, 
and  with  iron  justice  hang  the  wretch;  it  is  given 
to  an  old  man  to  transform  a  bad  man  into  a  good 
man.  It  is  better  to  heal  the  soul  than  to  break  the 
body.  Young  men  for  leadership  in  war,  young 
men  for  railways  and  factories,  and  fleets  of  ships; 
but  we  want  no  immaturity  on  the  bench,  where 
justice  and  spiritual  supremacy  rule.  What 
nothing  else  can  do  for  the  intellect  and  the  heart, 
time,  experience,  and  age  can  accomplish.  Out¬ 
wardly  the  rich  young  man  had  achieved  his  am¬ 
bition  and  was  enthroned  with  the  gray-haired 
members  of  the  highest  court  in  Jerusalem.  And 
Jesus  told  the  rich  young  ruler  plainly  that  he  did 
not  ring  true.  To  be  a  ruler,  was  more  than  seem¬ 
ing  to  be  one.  There  was  the  note  of  unreality  in 
a  young  man,  however  able,  with  his  inexperience, 
wishing  to  do  an  old  man’s  work.  He  had  the  ex¬ 
perience  of  twenty  summers,  but  needed  the  experi¬ 
ence  of  seventy  ripe  and  rounded  years. 

It  is  one  thing  for  a  man  to  be  a  soldier  of  the 
British  Guards  surviving  a  hundred  battles  and 


20 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


winning  the  coveted  Victoria  Cross  when  his  com¬ 
rades  carried  the  hero  off  the  field  of  battle.  It  is 
quite  another  thing  for  a  rich  youth  to  go  to  an 
Old  Soldiers’  Home  and  with  gold  buy  an  aged 
hero’s  Victoria  Cross,  and  pin  it  on  his  coat.  The 
rich  young  ruler  was  decorated  with  a  medal  that 
he  had  never  won  upon  the  battlefield  of  the  soul. 
When  the  young  ruler  asked  Jesus  what  he  should 
do  to  be  perfect,  the  answer  was  quick  and  search¬ 
ing:  ‘'Strike  the  note  of  reality.  But  for  your 
gold,  you  would  never  have  been  elected  a  ruler. 
You  have  not  earned  the  right  to  sit  in  judgment 
on  other  men’s  souls.  If  you  would  be  perfect, 
give  your  gold  to  the  poor,  and  achieve  the  matur¬ 
ity,  the  mellowness,  that  love  for  the  poor  alone 
can  give.  Come  with  Me.  Together  we  will  search 
out  the  heartbroken,  feed  the  hungry,  save  the 
prodigal,  be  light  to  the  darkened,  be  life  to  the 
dead.  There  must  be  no  schism  in  the  soul.  You 
must  not  be  young  and  inexperienced,  and  seem  to 
arrogate  to  yourself  maturity,  and  the  right  to 
judge  older  and  wiser  men.” 

How  reasonable  the  counsel!  How  just!  and 
how  generous,  too!  The  rich  young  ruler  was 
outwardly  sound,  but  inwardly  he  had  played  the 
prodigal.  Oh,  how  we  long  to  see  him  rise  up,  and, 
forsaking  all,  join  the  lowly  Galikean!  What 
an  opportunity  he  lost !  He  might  have  been 
\the  great  apostle  to  launch  Christ’s  enterprise. 
This  youth  had  perhaps  the  position  and  the  genius 
that  fitted  him  to  have  divided  honours  with  Paul. 
He  might  have  saved  the  early  Church  from  a 
century  of  persecution,  and  its  baptism  of  blood 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


21 


and  fire.  When  Don  Francisco  de  Xaviero  heard 
the  call,  he  left  his  gold  and  his  castle,  and  be¬ 
came  immortal  forever,  as  the  sainted  Xavier. 
But  this  youth — ah,  the  gold  slips  between  his 
finders  down  into  the  sea !  And  little  wonder  that 
Dante  fled  from  the  youth  who  made  the  Great 
Refusal ! 

Searching  out  the  reasons  for  the  ruler’s  refusal, 
we  find  one  in  the  vastness  of  the  enterprise  pro¬ 
posed.  For  a  rich  and  successful  young  man,  it 
seemed  an  impossible  thing  to  give  away  his  wealth 
and  wreck  his  career.  The  youth’s  property  came 
by  inheritance.  He  was  born  to  be  a  popular 
leader.  His  strongest  gift  was  with  men,  and  not 
over  things.  Jesus  knew  that  he  would  never  be 
happy  until  he  used  his  supreme  talent.  A  bird  is 
perfectly  contented  with  walking  on  two  legs,  until 
the  morning  when  it  finds  out  it  has  wings.  From 
that  hour,  wings  make  legs  contemptible.  The 
youth  was  satisfied  with  money  and  business,  until 
he  wakened,  felt  the  stirrings  of  higher  gifts,  and 
discovered  that  he  must  work  for  men  and  with 
men.  But  the  closing  of  the  door  on  worldly  suc¬ 
cess  behind  him  was  too  hard.  He  seemed  to  him¬ 
self  like  a  child,  who  was  asked  to  carry  the  world 
on  his  shoulders,  like  Atlas.  Imagination  every 
hour  increased  the  magnitude  of  the  task  Jesus  had 
outlined.  Last  night  the  moon  yonder  in  the  sky 
seemed  like  a  world  of  silver,  swimming  in  a  sea 
of  amethyst.  And  larger  still  was  that  new  world 
that  suddenly  rose  on  the  horizon  of  this  young 
man's  imagination.  But  the  argument  was  not 
valid,  nor  was  the  youth  sincere.  Jesus  did  not  call 


22 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


him  to  immediate  perfection.  He  called  him  to  the 
next  duty,  and  bade  him  take  the  next  step. 

Christ  is  not  unreasonable.  He  asks  only  one 
step  at  a  time.  He  gives  strength  for  today’s 
burden — no  more.  He  gives  light  for  today’s  path 
— no  more.  “  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread  ” — 
not  bread  for  five  years  from  today.  He  sends 
help,  never  too  soon — that  is  our  safety;  never  too 
late — that  is  our  salvation.  The  first  step  along 
the  path  Christ  pointed  out  was  no  harder  for  the 
youth  than  the  first  step  he  took  along  the  line  of 
**  his  own  selfishness  and  ease.  The  Christian  life  is 
a  reasonable  life,  a  natural  life,  a  beautiful  life  and 
an  easy  life,  as  well  as  a  heroic  and  hard  one. 
There  is  a  great  chasm  that  separates  the  babe 
from  the  statesman,  the  sage  and  the  poet,  but  the 
child  grows  so  naturally,  by  taking  a  step  at  a  time, 
that  suddenly  this  boy,  Isaac  Newton,  wakes  up  to 
find  himself  a  scientist,  full  of  years  and  honours. 
It  can  never  be  reasonable  to  refuse  to  obey  Christ 
because  of  the  difficulties  of  the  Christian  life,  or 
the  vastness  of  the  enterprise,  until  a  child  is  justi¬ 
fied  in  refusing  to  go  to  school  because  it  is  a  great 
—  undertaking  to  be  a  scholar;  to  refuse  to  become  a 
clerk  because  it  is  a  weighty  matter  to  be  a  mer¬ 
chant  or  manufacturer.  Every  consideration  of 
reason  rebukes  the  young  ruler  for  refusing  obedi¬ 
ence  because  of  the  magnitude  of  the  life  proposed. 

Unconsciously,  also,  the  rich  young  ruler  was 
influenced  by  the  desire  to  postpone  the  decision. 
The  one  duty  of  the  moment  was  instant  action, 
while  delay  lost  all.  He  had  no  power  to  cast  him¬ 
self  fully  into  Christ’s  cause.  He  failed  by  not 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


23 


taking  his  courage  into  his  hand.  The  difference 
between  two  young  men  of  equal  gifts  is  the  differ¬ 
ence  of  will,  decision  and  instant  resolution.  We 
have  all  known  young  men  of  great  promise,  cour¬ 
teous  manners,  fine  natural  gifts,  ripe  culture,  who 
just  miss  success.  A  friend  goes  to  them  with  a 
splendid  opening.  And  the  man  says :  “  That  seems 
just  the  opening  I  want.  I  will  look  into  it  at 
once.”  When  a  month  has  passed  by,  and  the  op¬ 
portunity  has  gone,  then  the  youth  wakes  up,  and 
decides  to  act.  There  are  men  who  remember  the 
treasures  in  the  orchard  immediately  after  the 
robins  have  picked  the  last  red  cherry.  The  world 
is  full  of  moulders,  who  decide  upon  the  pattern  an 
hour  after  the  iron  has  cooled.  Yesterday,  Oppor¬ 
tunity  knocked  at  the  man’s  door,  and  day  after 
tomorrow  he  will  decide  to  arise  and  qpen  to  the 
stranger,  to  discover  that  she  has  gone  forever. 
To  the  farmer  comes  a  strange  conjunction  of 
events  in  May,  and  soil  and  sun  and  seed  conspire, 
but  he  who  postpones  to  July  need  not  expect  that 
October  will  postpone  also  her  time  for  harvest. 
The  men  who  fail  in  the  world  have  not  failed  be¬ 
cause  God  and  Nature  did  not  give  them  success. 
When  the  ruby-hot  glass  runs  like  water,  that  is 
the  time  to  pour  it  into  the  mould.  Not  a  second 
must  be  lost.  The  true  man  acts  at  the  first  note  of 
duty.  The  successful  man  bestirs  himself  at  the 
first  overture  of  opportunity.  Life  is  large,  but  it 
has  no  room  for  delay.  What  robbed  this  youth  of 
fame  and  immortal  influence  ?  The  answer  is  clear 
— delay,  indecision,  and  drifting  until  a  more  con¬ 
venient  time. 


24 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


Perhaps  the  youth  was  in  the  mood  when  it  was 
easier  to  dream  than  to  change  moral  impressions 
and  ideas  into  actions.  Nothing  is  easier  to  form 
than  the  habit  of  spiritual  reverie.  Some  natures 
there  are  that  exhale  aspirations  like  clouds.  But 
the  desert  lands  of  Sahara  are  not  cloudless  lands — 
the  skies  above  the  hot  sands  are  often  overcast, 
only  the  white  clouds  are  too  high,  and  never  con¬ 
dense  into  raindrops.  Years  ago,  in  Paris,  I  made 
the  round  of  the  American  studios.  One  day  an 
artist-friend  took  me  into  a  garret.  Going  up  the 
steps  he  told  me  that  he  would  show  me  the  most 
glorious  dreamer  in  France.  I  found  the  low  ceil¬ 
ing  covered  with  pencil  sketches;  every  inch  of  the 
walls  and  the  very  floor  plastered  over  with  out¬ 
lines.  Every  morning  found  the  artist  at  his  can¬ 
vas.  In  one  ceaseless  procession  the  visions  passed 
before  him — angels,  seraphs,  sunsets,  trees,  castles, 
scarred  cliffs,  golden  clouds,  palace,  hut,  canoe, 
ocean  steamer,  mound,  volcano,  peasant,  prince, 
tropic  luxuries — a  thousand  sketches — not  one  of 
them  complete.  A  thousand  dreams  and  faces  in 
the  air,  but  no  power  to  pin  them  down  to  a  canvas, 
and  fix  them  there  forever.  No  artist  had  more 
glorious  visions  of  beauty,  but  men  with  one-tenth 
the  imaginative  power  painted  ten  times  the  num¬ 
ber  of  pictures,  and  had  a  hundred  times  the  in¬ 
come.  The  artist  who  indulged  in  his  dreams  lived 
on  his  reveries ;  he  was  like  multitudes,  who  dream 
their  dreams  of  ideal  perfection,  plan  noble  deeds 
of  helpfulness,  but  do  practically  almost  nothing. 
For  years  they  have  been  going  to  join  the  church, 
but  they  have  never  aligned  themselves  with  the 


THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 


25 


forces  of  right.  For  other  years  they  have  had 
their  hours  when  they  planned  what  they  would  do 
for  Christ’s  poor  and  weak,  but  these  are  still  only 
clouded  aspirations.  And  now,  the  visions  are  be¬ 
ginning  to  die  away.  No  longer  is  the  heart  agi¬ 
tated  with  joyous  tumult  at  the  thought  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  His  overtures  of  friendship.  No 
longer  does  the  pulse  beat  high  with  hope  at  the 
sound  of  His  footprints  and  the  stroke  of  the  Di¬ 
vine  Stranger  knocking  at  the  door.  For  the  har¬ 
vest  is  passed  and  the  summer  is  ended,  and  they 
are  not  saved.  They  have  made  the  Great  Refusal. 

The  early  traditions  tell  us  that  this  youth  who 
went  away  sad,  could  not  stay  away,  but  returned. 
His  refusal  haunted  him,  the  vision  of  immortal 
influence  tormented  his  spirit,  and  at  last  he  rosey 
up  and  returned  to  the  Master.  Some  scholars  telf 
us  that  the  rich  young  man  was  Lazarus,  who  lived 
at  Bethany,  and  that  he  was  among  the  first  of  the 
martyrs.  But  we  question  the  tradition.  Some 
have  thought  that  the  rich  young  ruler  was  Saul/X 
who  at  length  became  bitter  toward  his  Master,  and 
finally,  to  justify  himself,  wrought  out  the  perse¬ 
cution,  and  killed  Stephen.  But  it  seems  incredible 
that  Paul  should  not  have  recalled  the  saddest  hour 
in  his  life,  the  hour  when  he  made  the  Great  Re¬ 
fusal.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  this  rich  young 
ruler  nevaiTound  his  opportunity  again.  Plis  name 
has  perished.  His  influence  has  passed  like  the 
morning  dew.  His  work  and  career  were  as  eva¬ 
nescent  as  a  driftinfi  cloud.  Plis  name  might  have 
been  one  to  charm  by,  but  he  perished  like  the  fall¬ 
ing  leaf,  leaving  a  warning,  alas,  how  searching! 


26  THE  GREAT  REFUSAL 

Oh,  all  ye  young  hearts,  have  ye  not  drifted  long 
enough?  For  years  you  have  postponed  the  great 
decision.  Will  you  once  more  make  the  Great 
Refusal? 

Are  there  none  in  whom  the  wells  of  feeling  are 
choked  up?  Are  there  none  who  begin  to  chafe 
under  the  fetters  of  habit  and  passion,  and  long 
for  deliverance?  Are  you  not  weary  of  your  rest¬ 
lessness?  Are  you  not  ready  to  exchange  storm 
and  tumult  for  the  calm  of  the  harbour?  If  sins 
have  uprooted  your  life  as  storms  have  broken 
some  goodly  tree,  will  you  not  remember  that  the 
Husbandman  is  abroad  in  His  world  garden,  and 
that  once  more  the  south  wind  may  blow  softly 
through  the  broken  branches?  To  you  this  day 
comes  Opportunity.  Today  all  the  moments  are 
big  with  fate.  Oh !  Listen  to  the  voice : 

l 

“  Master  of  human  destinies  am  I. 

Fame,  love  and  fortune  on  my  footsteps  wait. 

And  passing  by, 

Hovel  and  mart  and  palace,  soon  or  late, 

I  knock  unbidden  once  at  every  gate. 

If  sleeping,  wake;  if  feasting,  rise  before 
I  turn  away.  It  is  the  hour  of  fate. 

All  those  who  doubt  or  hesitate 
Seek  me  in  vain,  and  uselessly  implore. 

I  answer  not,  and  I  return  no  more.” 


II 


WHAT  IF  ALL  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 

“I  am  afraid  of  you ,  lest  I  have  bestowed  upon  you 
labour  in  vain — Gal.  iv:  n. 

THIS  is  Paul’s  last  plea — the  plea  of  Love! 
Fearing  lest  some  whom  he  had  hoped  to 
win  were  about  to  turn  away  forever,  Paul 
called  in  all  his  reserves,  and  forced  a  decision. 
Pathetic  indeed  that  tremulous  appeal,  burdened 
with  love  and  tears.  The  scarred  hero  knew  that 
his  life  work  was  now  all  but  done.  Certain  last 
words  must  be  spoken.  Looking  out  upon  the 
multitude  of  faces  that  he  knew,  he  remembers 
that  some  men  had  been  won  while  others  had 
stood  out,  unyielding  to  the  very  last.  In  that 
moment  every  great  thing  in  Paul’s  nature  rose 
up  into  its  full  estate,  and  he  became,  as  it  were,  a 
hundred  men!  He  appealed  unto  self-interest: 
“  Godliness  is  profitable  in  the  life  that  now  is.” 
He  appealed  unto  reason :  “  The  noble  prophets, 
heroes  and  martyrs  are  come  to  full  flower  and 
fruit  in  Jesus.”  He  appeals  to  affection :  “  The 
love  of  Christ  constraineth  you.”  He  strikes  the 
note  of  fear  and  alarm :  “  Be  not  deceived ;  God  is 
not  mocked;  for  whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that 
shall  he  also  reap.” 

Every  bell  in  his  belfry  rings,  but  with  strokes, 

27 


28  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


oh!  how  different!  The  ringers  in  a  cathedral 
tower  ring  their  chimes  in  divers  ways.  Now  the 
quick  notes  peal  out  the  wedding  march!  Then, 
with  slow  and  stately  stroke  they  boom  out  solemn 
accompaniment  to  inaugural  address  and  majestic 
ceremonial !  Sometimes,  at  the  midnight  hour, 
they  strike  quick,  sharp  blows ;  sparks  that  suggest 
flames,  as  they  startle  a  sleeping  city  to  terror  and 
alarm.  Not  otherwise  Paul  sounds  his  bell  to 
waken  men. 

But  when  Paul  has  stated  the  argument  from 
history,  the  argument  from  experience,  the  argu¬ 
ment  from  the  uniqueness  of  Christ,  and  em¬ 
phasized  motives  that  are  personal,  suddenly  he 
realises  that  if  he  has  succeeded  in  winning  some, 
others  stand  forth,  hard  and  unyielding.  And  then 
comes  this  piercing,  grief-stricken  exclamation :  “  I 
have  done  all  that  man  can  do;  but  what  if  my  all 
should  be  in  vain?  ” 

All  faithful  workers  want  to  win  success.  No 
strong  man  who  has  put  forth  his  full  labour  can 
easily  confront  approaching  failure.  We  have  seen 
some  men  preserve  youth  into  their  extreme  age, 
^because  they  toil  amidst  an  atmosphere  of  victory. 
Others  we  have  seen  grow  old  before  their  time 
because  of  the  inner  consciousness  of  failure.  But 
the  servant  is  not  above  his  master,  and  Paul, 
who  was  sent,  is  not  above  Him  who  sends  the 
messenger.  If  five  times  Paul  confesses  the  fear 
that  his  work  has  been  in  vain,  yet  His  Master 
so  felt  before  him.  What  pathos  and  tragedy 
in  Christ’s  struggle  to  win  His  twelve  disciples! 
For  three  years  He  laboured  for  them,  after 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  29 


the  pattern  of  earth's  most  glorious  friendship. 
With  more  than  the  wisdom  of  the  great  Athe¬ 
nian  teacher,  He  instructed  His  disciple  band; 
with  a  thousandfold  more  of  personal  charm 
than  Carlyle  or  Emerson,  Christ,  who  spake  as 
never  man  spake,  wrought  tirelessly  for  His  little 
company. 

He  found  the  fishermen  rude,  cold  and  unlet¬ 
tered.  He  found  them  dull  and  low-flying,  and  He 
poured  warmth  and  light  about  them,  and  lent 
fertility  and  ripeness  to  their  every  faculty. 
Partly  by  instruction,  but  chiefly  by  the  might  of 
a  glorious  love,  He  lifted  them  out  of  themselves 
and  transformed  the  fisherman  Peter  into  a  great 
apostle,  and  led  the  untutored  John  toward  the 
stature  of  a  poet,  mystic  and  seer.  Then  came  the 
Last  Supper,  and  Judas,  followed  by  the  con¬ 
spirators,  stooped  for  his  kiss  of  treachery.  Hav¬ 
ing  loved  His  own,  Jesus  loved  unto  the  end.  To 
Him  the  thought  that  Judas  was  to  be  lost  was  an 
unbearable  thought.  He  makes  one  more  attempt ! 
Again  and  again  His  infinite  love  wrestled  with 
Judas’  selfishness  and  rebellion!  No  quick  words, 
that  burn  like  lightning,  leap  from  Christ’s  lips ! 
No  sentence  falls  like  a  club  to  crush  Judas  to  the 
earth,  as  a  big  man  brings  a  little  one  down  by  a 
single  blow. 

With  infinite  pity,  with  all  the  ingenuity  of  love, 
with  tireless  solicitude,  Christ  begins  His  work 
afresh.  “Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  come?” 
Twice  His  hand  was  stretched  out  to  draw  the 
man  back  from  the  precipice,  as  He  seeks  to  snatch 
Judas  from  the  abyss  that  yawns.  But  all  en- 


30  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


treaties  are  in  vain.  What  mystery  is  this,  that 
man  can  set  his  will  against  His  Maker’s?  Destiny 
is  in  these  words,  “  I  will  not.”  Judas  speaks  or 
acts  them,  and  so  he  went  on  toward  the  scrap  heap 
of  the  universe. 

Deliverance  and  salvation  may  be  in  God,  but 
man  can  refuse  them.  Harvests  are  not  alone  in 
the  sun!  The  sun  falls  on  good  soil  and  brings 
forth  sheaves  and  shocks;  the  sun  falls  on  thin 
sand,  and  the  Sahara  remains  sand.  On  sunny, 
southern  shores  the  sea  rolls  in,  to  feed  the  rich 
marsh-grasses  and  clothe  the  shores  with  vines  and 
flowers,  yet  that  self-same  tidal  wave  rolls  over  the 
rocky  point  and  the  waters  leave  the  rocks  as  they 
found  them,  clothed  with  bareness  and  with  death. 
Thus  an  encircling  sea  of  love  encircled  the  dis¬ 
ciple  band!  But  if  these  sweet  influences  trans¬ 
formed  the  eleven,  they  were  impotent  to  help  the 
twelfth,  named  Judas.  Therefore,  in  the  Inferno , 
Dante  makes  the  traitor  stand  apart,  shunned  by 
murderers,  himself  an  abyss  beyond  all  black 
depths.  Having  spoken  as  never  man  spake, 
having  served  and  wrought  as  never  man  toiled,  at 
last  Christ,  after  three  years  of  work  for  one  of 
His  disciples,  fronted  failure.  The  bitter,  disap¬ 
pointed  cry  of  the  disciple  is  the  disappointment  of 
the  Master,  “  What  if  all  my  work  be  in  vain?  ” 

Nations  also  have  power  to  refuse  the  last  plead¬ 
ings  of  love  and  the  influences  of  God’s  providence. 
Now  and  then  history  shows  us  an  entire  people 
rising  up  to  say,  “  We  will  not.”  In  retrospect, 
Southern  historians  tell  us  that  in  1830  the  South 
was  in  the  position  of  control,  and  held  far  greater 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  31 


promise  than  the  North,  by  reason  of  resources 
undeveloped  and  opportunities  offered  by  events. 
In  that  hour  blindness  fell  upon  the  people.  The 
Huguenots  in  the  South  forgot  Admiral  Coligny, 
and  their  fathers’  brave  struggle  for  liberty.  The 
sons  of  Albion,  who  had  settled  in  Virginia, 
forgot  the  glories  of  the  English  Revolution, 
and  the  emancipation  of  serfs  and  peasants!  Men 
with  Swiss  blood  in  their  veins  forgot  the  struggle 
of  the  cantons  and  the  overthrow  of  despotism. 
The  cotton  gin  increased  the  love  of  gold.  That 
tool  doubled  the  value  of  every  acre  of  cotton 
land.  It  raised  the  price  of  every  slave  from 
$100  to  $1,000.  Avarice  became  universal.  One 
day  Lincoln  was  elected  President.  He  thought 
slavery  was  wrong  and  should  be  ended.  The 
South  thought  slavery  was  right,  and  should  be 
expanded. 

But  from  the  day  he  was  elected,  Abraham  Lin¬ 
coln,  that  giant  mentally  as  well  as  physically, 
began  to  plead  with  his  Southern  friends.  He 
urged  them  to  stop  and  consider;  that  if  they  were 
going  wrong,  time  would  correct  their  judgment; 
that  if  they  were  going  right,  time  would  not  injure 
their  prospects.  He  urged  that  the  North  and 
South  had  a  common  tradition,  a.  common  lan¬ 
guage,  a  common  liberty,  a  common  succession  of 
Anglo-Saxon  ideas;  that  the  North  and  South 
could  not  separate  themselves  physically,  nor  build 
an  impassable  wall  between.  Afterwards  Lincoln 
passed  into  a  mood  of  depression.  He  began  to 
fear  lest  his  plea  had  failed.  His  face  in  that  hour 
was  more  marred  than  any  face  of  his  time.  So  he 


32  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


makes  his  last  plea  of  love :  “  My  fellow-country¬ 
men,  I  am  loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies,  but 
friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies.  Though  pas¬ 
sion  may  have  strained,  it  must  not  break  our  bonds 
of  affection.  The  mystic  chords  of  memory, 
stretching  from  every  battlefield  and  patriot  grave 
to  every  living  heart  and  hearthstone  all  over  this 
broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union, 
when  again  touched,  as  they  surely  will  be,  by  the 
better  angels  of  our  nature.” 

It  was  a  noble  plea,  but  “  it  was  all  in  vain.” 
Four  years  passed  by,  and  lo,  a  battlefield  a  thou¬ 
sand  miles  in  length;  a  wasted  land;  ruins  where 
had  been  villages,  cripples  marching  through  every 
Northern  and  Southern  city;  black-robed  women 
going  up  and  down  the  land;  an  army  of  orphans 
robbed  of  their  defenders.  Oh,  awful  and  mys¬ 
terious  gift — the  gift  of  the  free  will  that  can 
refuse  the  plea  of  love  and  turn  life  into  waste  and 
desolation ! 

In  the  larger  sense,  the  divine  government  over 
man,  with  all  its  myriad  threads  of  influence,  may 
be  in  vain.  Man  is  not  alone  in  the  universe.  He 
is  a  single  thread,  held  in  all  the  texture  into  which 
he  has  been  woven !  During  these  days,  God  seems 
near  to  men!  As  of  old,  so  now,  the  heavens  de¬ 
clare  His  glory.  Even  the  scientists  will  not  permit 
us  to  forget  the  nearness  of  the  invisible  Ruler 
and  Guide.  Witness  that  incident  related  by  Sir 
Oliver  Lodge!  The  scientist  and  a  distinguished 
physician  were  driving  together.  “  And  do  you, 
indeed,  still  believe  in  prayer?”  asked  the  physi¬ 
cian.  “  Do  you  believe  it,  right  down  to  the 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  33 


ground?  Does  not  God  govern  the  world  accord¬ 
ing  to  natural  laws  ?  How  can  He  interrupt  these 
laws  to  answer  prayer?  What  is  a  man  anyway? 
Only  one  of  fifteen  hundred  million  tiny  insects  ?  ” 
Then  the  scientist  took  the  physician  to  task.  The 
reply  was  substantially,  that  he  must  begin  to  read 
the  new  books  on  science,  that  the  old  ones  that 
were  controlling  his  thought  were  now  on  the  top 
shelf,  forgotten  and  covered  with  dust.  And  this 
was  the  scope  of  his  argument : 

“  Years  ago  you  did  not  believe  in  the  X-ray. 
If  anyone  had  told  you  that  there  was  a  light  that 
would  make  the  body  transparent,  so  that  you 
could  see  the  bones  in  your  hand,  and  perhaps  the 
needle  broken  off  against  the  bone,  you  would  have 
scoffed  at  the  suggestion.  But  the  X-ray  was  here, 
despite  all  these  centuries  of  ignorance  and  unbe¬ 
lief.  A  few  years  ago,  you  did  not  believe  in 
radium.  You  would  have  thought  it  unscientific 
to  believe  that  the  flame  should  not  consume;  that 
a  substance  does  not  burn  itself  up  by  its  own 
blaze.  Now,  however,  you  believe  in  radium — the 
very  thing  that  once  you  would  have  denied  as  irra¬ 
tional.  Ten  years  ago,  as  a  physician,  you  would 
have  ridiculed  the  idea  of  influencing  the  human 
will  by  hypnotic  suggestion.  You  would  have  said 
that  it  violates  the  sanctity  of  personality.  Now, 
you  recognise  the  principle,  and  as  a  surgeon 
working  with  your  patients,  you  constantly  practice 
it.  You  cannot  explain  by  what  physical  or  mental 
threads  you  influence  men,  but  it  is  a  fact,  and 
these  are  facts  that  scientists  must  reckon  with. 
Believing  in  these  three  things,  during  the  last  few 


34  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 

years,  you  must  remember  that  the  X-ray,  radium 
and  mental  suggestion  had  a  therapeutic  force, 
antedating  your  faith,  and  existing  from  the  very 
beginning !  And  now,  who  are  you,  that  you  shall 
believe  the  less,  but  not  the  greater  ?  Who  are  you, 
that  you  deny  that  God,  also,  by  suggestion  of 
truth,  of  beauty,  of  goodness,  cannot  control  and 
govern  men,  and  so  answer  prayer  ?  ”  Then  the 
two  men  parted.  The  next  morning,  in  London, 
the  scientist  says  he  received  a  telegram  containing 
these  words :  “  Last  night  I  said  my  prayers,  for 
the  first  time  in  thirty  years.”  And  so  the  scientist 
led  the  physician  into  the  faith  and  joy  of  his 
childhood ! 

Of  a  truth,  God  is  once  more  round  about  us  all. 
Again,  He  is  nearer  to  us  than  our  breathing.  The 
sky  above  is  a  blue  page  written  over  with  the 
tracery  of  His  hand;  the  rocks  beneath  hold  His 
footprints.  It  is  God  who  makes  work  so  sweet; 
it  is  God  who  sends  man  rest  and  sleep;  it  is  God 
who  fills  the  day  with  splendour;  it  is  God  who 
overflows  the  cup  of  night  with  majesty.  It  is  His 
stroke  that  falls  in  the  storm ;  it  is  His  breath  that 
sweeps  away  the  clouds  and  mists.  It  is  God  who 
is  the  sum  of  all  excellencies.  Just  as  the  flowers 
borrow  the  one  its  red,  the  other  its  blue,  the  other 
its  violet  or  gold  from  the  sunbeam  that  holds  all, 
so  the  great  ones  of  earth  borrow  their  heroism, 
their  love  of  liberty,  their  truth,  their  self-sacrifice, 
their  every  splendid  virtue,  from  God.  His  love 
flows  round  about  you  as  the  ocean  laves  the  base 
of  some  Gibraltar.  His  light,  like  the  sun,  lends 
beauty  to  your  life.  His  every  thought  is  medic- 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  35 

ina.1,  His  sacred  influences  are  curative,  His  spirit 
brings  vitality  and  health.  The  angel  of  His 
Providence  goes  before  you,  to  mark  out  your 
pathway,  the  angel  of  His  mercy  follows  after  you, 
to  recover  you  from  transgression;  the  angel  of 
His  love  encamps  on  your  right  hand  and  on  your 
left.  With  ceaseless  solicitude  He  woos  and  pleads 
with  you.  This  is  His  voice,  “  My  son,  give  me 
thine  heart.”  Your  life  is  like  a  book;  it  is  written 
by  a  human  and  a  divine  hand  jointly.  The  pages 
are  filled  with  the  record  of  God’s  government  over 
you.  What,  then,  if  the  last  page  of  your  life 
history  should  hold  these  words,  “  It  is  all  in 
vam  ! 

Consider  that  the  patience  of  God,  His  interfer¬ 
ence  in  men’s  behalf  and  all  His  providential  de¬ 
liverances  may  also  be  in  vain.  Every  man  is 
unconsciously  writing  his  autobiography.  And 
what  a  book  of  life  yours  would  make!  If  your 
career  were  told,  verily,  truth  would  be  stranger 
than  fiction.  What  critical  hours  once  came  upon 
you!  What  moments  of  destiny  have  been  yours. 
Oft  you  have  stood  upon  the  very  brink  of  a  preci¬ 
pice,  and  a  Divine  Hand  was  stretched  forth  to 
draw  you  back.  How  thrilling  the  interferences 
of  God  in  your  youth!  You  can  recall  the  year  at 
school,  when  you  passed  under  the  ascendency  of 
one  whose  whole  influence  was  malign.  For 
months  that  shadow  darkened  and  eclipsed  your 
days.  In  retrospect,  you  look  upon  that  boon  com¬ 
panion  as  attractive  and  fascinating,  but  tending 
toward  evil.  From  him  at  last  you  broke  away, 
but  through  and  by  what  power  and  help  you  do 


36  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


not  know!  The  path  of  your  lives  parted;  he  went 
one  way,  and  came  to  inevitable  destruction;  you 
were  led  along  another  way,  and  escaped  as  from 
the  snare  of  a  fowler.  But  during  all  that  epoch, 
when  you  were  under  the  malign  influence,  the  evil 
forces  were  eating  into  your  life,  cutting  into  char¬ 
acter  as  decay  cuts  into  fruit,  as  rust  eats  into 
steel,  as  a  moth  bores  into  a  garment.  Had  that 
relation  not  been  interrupted,  the  whole  structure 
of  your  life  would  have  come  crashing  down  in 
ruins.  But  God  entered  the  scene.  An  invisible 
hand  with  sword  of  flame,  sundered  the  relation. 
An  unseen  angel  delivered  you,  and  led  your  steps 
into  another  path.  Lo,  now  you  stand  forth  in  life, 
strong,  surely  founded,  and  buttressed  by  truth  and 
justice.  In  that  hour  of  deliverance  what  vows 
you  made.  You  were  swift  to  make  pledges. 
Were  you  not  swifter  still  to  forget  them? 

Do  you  not  recall  that  epoch  when,  through  over¬ 
work,  disease  fell  upon  you?  Do  you  remem¬ 
ber  the  day  when  the  pulse  fluttered,  and  your  heart 
was  as  weak  as  the  flutter  of  a  leaf?  How  physi¬ 
cian  and  friend  went  about  whispering,  while  none 
knew  what  the  issue  would  be  ?  In  that  hour,  look¬ 
ing  upward  with  fevered  eye,  did  you  not  cry  out, 
“  God  of  my  fathers!  spare  my  life,  and  I  will  live 
for  Thee!  Every  hour  shall  be  spent  in  Thy  ser¬ 
vice!  Thine  henceforth  shall  be  health,  gold  and 
all  gifts”?  Oh,  what  a  prayer  was  yours!  Well, 
God  heard  your  prayer.  Stretching  His  hand 
down  into  the  depths,  He  lifted  you  out  and  set 
your  feet  upon  the  rock.  Have  you  kept  your 
vows?  Have  all  your  gifts,  and  gold,  and  life, 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  37 


been  used  for  Him?  You  know  they  have  not. 
Shall  all  those  marvelous  interferences  be  in  vain? 

Some  of  you  have  been  overwhelmed  in  a 
weak  hour  by  some  temptation  of  avarice,  or  stu¬ 
pidity,  or  passion.  This  overthrow  was  as  sudden 
as  if  some  wild  beast  had  leaped  out  of  a  jungle 
and  left  you  bleeding  in  the  way.  At  last  you  have 
risen  above  the  body,  you  have  flung  down  the  cup 
of  flame,  calling  upon  God  for  deliverance.  Then 
the  day  of  liberty  came.  But  with  strength  of  will 
have  you  lived  by  day  and  by  night  for  your  De¬ 
liverer  as  you  promised  and  pledged?  What  peril¬ 
ous  hours  some  of  you  have  had  in  finance !  What 
risk  of  bankruptcy!  What  moments  of  persecu¬ 
tion  !  What  losses  and  bereavements !  God  deliv¬ 
ered  you  out  of  them  all.  Have  you  kept  the  vows 
you  made  in  return?  When  Judas  retraced  his 
steps,  lo,  at  every  turn  in  the  path  some  ghost  rose 
up  to  torment  him.  Go  back  over  your  long  life 
pathway.  Live  once  more  the  great  critical  hours. 
Recall  the  nights  when,  like  young  Jacob,  God’s 
angel  met  you  in  the  way,  and  you  promised  that 
you  would  give  your  life  to  Him.  For  the  living 
angel  now,  only  the  spectre  and  the  ghost  remain. 
You  have  broken  your  vows,  you  have  forgotten 
God’s  deliverance,  you  have  repressed  the  nobler 
feelings.  God  stirred  anew  great  deep  convictions 
within  you,  but  all  these  you  have  tried  to  choke 
down.  A  thousand  times  One  whose  form  is  like 
unto  the  Son  of  God  entered  your  life,  now  ward¬ 
ing  off  dangers,  now  exposing  pitfalls,  now  plant¬ 
ing  flowers  along  your  life’s  way;  now  sheltering 
you  from  sin’s  fierce  heat,  but  the  more  God  has 


38  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


given,  the  more  selfish  you  have  become.  Thou 
rich  man !  thou  hast  become  a  Dead  Sea  into 
which  all  rivers  run  and  from  which  no  generous 
stream  flows  forth !  Thou  man  of  culture,  with 
much  knowledge  thou  hast  overburdened  thy  life. 
Having  received  much,  thou  hast  given  little.  In 
vain  God  has  interfered,  hoping  still  to  recover 
you.  Soon  you  will  be  at  the  end  of  the  life 
pathway,  and  when  the  career  is  done,  what  if 
these  words  are  written  there :  “  Lo,  it  was  all 
in  vain  r 

For  multitudes,  the  closer  and  more  intimate 
influences  of  God  in  man’s  behalf  are  exerted  in 
vain.  Great  is  the  influence  of  God  in  nature  and 
events.  Marvellous  the  way  in  which  God  in¬ 
fluences  men  through  land  and  sea  and  sky.  His 
truth  breaks  forth  in  the  story  of  nations  and  of 
great  men.  What  a  voice  is  the  voice  of  revelation 
through  this  divine  Book!  But  God  also  deals 
with  men  in  a  more  intimate  way.  For  conscience 
has  a  voice  and  it  can  speak.  A  thousand  books 
have  been  written  to  explain  this  voice,  but  the 
sum  of  them  all  is,  that  conscience  is  the  whisper 
of  God  in  the  soul  of  man.  It  is  as  if  the  youth 
ever  heard  one  bidding  him  remember  the  all- 
seeing  eye,  the  all-hearing  ear,  and  the  books  of 
judgment  that  record  all  deeds.  For  pain  does  not 
more  certainly  follow  a  wound  than  does  conscience 
condemn  a  wrong.  God  hath  not  left  Himself 
without  a  witness  in  any  human  heart.  If  so- 
called  heathen  peoples  have  no  temple  or  teacher  or 
book,  day  by  day,  and  through  all  the  rolling  years, 
they  do  have  the  voice  of  conscience.  Witness 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  39 


Lucretius  in  his  De  Rerum  Natura.  “  The  evil 
doer  needs  no  dungeon,  no  scourge,  no  execution¬ 
er’s  sword.  For  conscience,  that  dread  avenger,  is 
ever  with  him.”  Witness  the  old  Persian  when 
the  wild  beasts  leaped  upon  him  and  rent  him,  and 
his  servants  carried  him  home  to  die.  He  ex¬ 
claimed,  “  I  thank  God  that  I  have  been  rent  by  a 
beast,  and  not  by  the  fangs  of  conscience.” 

And  to  every  noble  youth  God  speaks.  In  the 
hour  of  temptation,  the  voice  whispers  warning  and 
alarm.  In  the  hour  of  yielding  and  fall,  conscience 
brings  condemnation  and  stern  punishment.  If  the 
youth  persists  and  scoffs  at  everything  that  makes 
for  love,  conscience  still  pleads.  But  alas,  the  time 
will  come  when  the  conscience  will  be  seared  by  sin 
as  by  a  red-hot  iron,  until  the  youth  loses  his  inno¬ 
cence,  and  maturity  is  contaminated,  and  old  age 
becomes  degradation  and  conscience  is  dead. 

Yet,  as  long  as  there  is  the  faintest  whisper, 
there  is  hope.  Oh,  thou  man,  grown  grey  in  thy 
refusals,  listen!  If  thou  dost  catch  but  the  tremor 
of  the  whispered  note  of  reproof,  then  thank  God; 
thank  Him  with  tears  running  down  the  cheek  that 
conscience  is  not  dead,  and  that  God  still  calls,  that 
hope  is  still  yours,  that  still  there  is  room  and  op¬ 
portunity.  But,  remember,  that  when  conscience 
speaks  to  the  Judas-like  faculty  in  you,  it  is  God 
speaking.  Do  not  refuse.  Remember  that  when 
Christ  said  to  Judas,  “  Friend,  wherefore  art  thou 
come?”  the  disciple  said  nothing.  Judas  did  not 
say,  “  I  will  not.”  He  simply  said  nothing.  He 
did  not  refuse,  he  only  postponed.  He  did  not 
curse;  he  simply  delayed.  In  refusing  to  commit 


40  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


himself  to  the  right,  he  allied  himself  to  wrong. 
If  you  turn  away,  today,  having  made  no  vow  to 
God,  having  postponed  your  acceptance  of  His 
Son,  having  kept  silence,  you  have  chosen  Judas’ 
part,  and  all  the  warnings  of  conscience,  all  the 
pleas  of  the  whisper  of  God,  in  the  soul  of  man, 
will  have  been  for  naught.  And  when  conscience 
speaks  for  the  last  time,  this  will  be  her  word :  “  Lo, 
all  my  work  has  been  in  vain !  ” 

It  seems,  therefore,  that  the  issues  of  life  and 
death  hang  upon  the  will.  It  is  not  enough  that 
men  should  desire  good,  they  must,  with  instant 
resolution,  choose  the  good,  and  give  themselves  to 
it  with  entire  abandon.  It  is  often  said  that  men 
are  in  danger  of  emotionalism  in  religion.  People 
are  urged  not  to  act  in  haste.  “  Take  plenty  of 
time,”  friends  whisper.  When  a  man  is  thinking 
about  committing  a  crime,  “  the  second  thought  is 
the  best  thought.”  But  when  a  man  is  thinking 
about  doing  right  the  second  thought  is  treachery. 
Remember  that  the  first  thought  of  good  is  the  only 
thought  to  be  followed  with  instant  decision  and 
energy ! 

Life  is  a  battle.  Every  day  brings  its  test.  No 
man  is  safe  until  he  is  carried  to  the  cemetery. 
Evil  surges  round  the  soul,  beating  it  with  ever 
constant  stroke.  The  way  of  instant  resolution  is 
the  only  way  of  safety.  No  counsel  can  be  more 
foolish  than  the  counsel  for  delay,  postponement 
and  consideration.  In  an  hour  like  that  of  the 
Iroquois  Theatre  fire,  it  is  the  foolish  man  who 
says:  “Consider.  Wait  for  the  second  thought. 
Avoid  precipitancy.”  The  one  duty  of  the  moment 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  41 


is  to  make  haste.  Save  yourself  first,  consider 
afterward. 

You  are  on  the  great  overland  express.  Some 
passing  spark  has  kindled  a  flame  on  the  bridge, 
and  it  is  burned  through.  The  locomotive  goes 
down.  Startled  by  the  jerk,  you  spring  to  the  door 
of  the  sleeper.  The  car  hangs  on  the  edge;  the 
one  duty  is  that  of  precipitancy.  You  must  act, — 
act  for  your  life.  This  is  also  the  law  of  the  soul. 
In  those  hours  when  God  is  brooding  upon  you, 
and  the  finer  feelings  rise,  commit  yourself.  Turn 
to  the  man  sitting  beside  you,  and  say:  “  For  years 
I  have  been  wrong.  I  am  determined  to  do  right.” 
Speak  to  every  friend  you  meet,  announcing  your 
decision.  Give  hostages  to  pride.  Many  and  many 
a  man  might  have  been  saved  had  he  but  acted 
with  decision  and  energy. 

There  are  men  who  have  been  gambling  in 
secret;  some  of  you  have  been  tempted,  and  have 
yielded.  You  are  standing  upon  the  edge  of  a 
precipice;  go  forth  tomorrow  and  build  buttresses 
between  you  and  evil.  When  a  sentinel  gives  the 
word  that  the  enemy  is  approaching,  the  regiment 
hastily  throws  up  an  earthwork,  and  sleeps  behind 
defenses.  You  must  take  sides,  and  buttress  your¬ 
self  about  and  guard  all  the  ledges  and  walls.  This 
is  the  function  of  the  Church.  This  is  the  phi¬ 
losophy  of  Christ’s  word:  “If  any  man  is  ashamed 
of  Me  and  of  My  word,  of  him  will  I  be  ashamed 
when  I  come  into  My  kingdom.”  Do  not  be  de¬ 
ceived;  God  is  not  mocked;  you  are  coming  to  an 
hour  of  shame  and  peril.  You  think  that  you  have 
some  excuse  for  not  walking  in  the  band  of  Christ’s 


42  WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN? 


disciples,  for  not  carrying  His  banner.  Do  you 
think  that  if  Jesus  were  in  your  place  He  would 
refuse  and  stand  aloof  as  you  have  stood  for  years? 
All  the  little,  flimsy  excuses  that  you  have  been 
making  for  keeping  out  of  His  Church  are  as  im¬ 
potent  as  drifting  leaves.  You  must  choose.  Why 
not  now? 

Swiftly  the  years  come  and  go.  Already  some 
of  you  are  approaching  the  end.  Did  you  but 
know  it,  you  are  even  now  in  sight  of  the  homeland. 
Just  as  men  trained  to  the  sea  perceive  the  smell  of 
the  soil  in  the  air,  before  the  shore  comes  in  sight, 
so  are  the  foretokens  and  intimations  of  the 
life  beyond  now  being  made  clear.  Already  the 
air  is  full  of  voices,  if  only  you  had  ears  to  hear. 
And  yet,  you  are  still  in  the  winter  of  your  discon¬ 
tent.  Restlessness  disturbs  you ;  with  fear  and 
shrinking  you  draw  back  from  the  end.  More  and 
more  you  cling  to  the  things  called  bonds  and  goods 
and  houses,  not  knowing  that  soon  these  ambitions 
will  explode  like  balloons,  while  the  whole  fabric 
dissolves.  When  it  is  too  late,  you  will  discover 
that  these  things  that  you  have  pursued  are  only 
for  the  support  of  the  body,  that  the  things  of  the 
soul  alone  are  of  real  consequence ! 

In  that  hour,  you  will  recall  all  the  interferences 
of  God  in  your  behalf.  What  has  your  career  been 
but  a  succession  of  overtures  from  the  all-loving 
Father  God?  And  are  all  these  events  to  be  in 
vain?  What  a  father  and  mother  you  had!  Are 
their  graves  to  mean  nothing  to  you  ?  What  teach¬ 
ers  and  what  companions  in  life’s  way!  What 
offices,  and  joys,  and  honours,  and  victories,  God 


WHAT  IF  GOD’S  GIFTS  BE  IN  VAIN?  43 


has  sent  you !  Are  all  these  to  be  in  vain  ?  What 
a  succession  of  prophets  and  apostles  and  martyrs 
who  have  inspired  and  guided  you !  Is  their  work 
to  come  to  naught?  What  means  this  voice,  this 
still,  small  voice,  that  whispers  and  still  whispers: 
“  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time ;  behold,  now  is 
the  day  of  salvation.”  “  My  son,  give  me  thine 
heart.”  Is  this  also  to  be  of  no  avail? 

Oh,  I  am  loathe  to  close!  For  God  and  your 
soul  are  not  enemies,  but  are  friends.  You  must 
not  be  enemies.  Though  selfishness  and  sin  have 
strained,  they  must  not  break  the  bonds  of  affec¬ 
tion.  In  my  vision  I  see  the  mystic  chords  of 
memory  stretch  from  your  heart  and  hearthstone 
and  your  mother’s  grave,  to  the  arms  of  yonder 
Cross  that  stands  on  Calvary.  Surely  the  chords 
will  give  forth  music  of  the  Christian  life  when  the 
angels  of  God  and  your  better  nature  touch  the 
strings.  Do  not  go  out  into  the  night  undecided,  as 
Judas  did,  for  if  you  do,  then  all  has  been  in  vain. 
That  would  mean  that  the  harvest  is  past,  the  sum¬ 
mer  ended,  and  your  soul  not  saved ! 


Ill 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 

“And  the  Lord  God  of  their  fathers  sent  to  them  by 
his  messengers — II  Chron.  xxxvi:  15. 

NEWMAN  says,  “  there  are  two  supreme  and 
self-evident  realities  in  the  universe,” — 
God,  above  the  stars,  and  man  below,  ask¬ 
ing  what  is  going  on  beyond  those  star-fires.  From 
time  to  time  man  thinks  that  he  sees  signals  hung 
out  from  the  battlements,  and  in  his  vision  hours, 
he  makes  answer  thereto.  This  interchange  of 
signals  forms  the  basis  of  religion.  When  God 
speaks  unto  men  it  is  inspiration  and  guidance. 
When  man  speaks  unto  God  it  is  prayer  and  wor¬ 
ship.  What  God  once  did  for  Moses  and  Paul,  He 
still  does  for  modern  merchants  and  husbandmen. 

Not  that  the  messengers  always  speak  with 
human  voices,  for  His  is  a  rich  and  varied  lan¬ 
guage.  Now  He  puts  Right  upon  the  scaffold  and 
Wrong  upon  the  throne,  and  bids  men  choose  be¬ 
tween  them.  Now  He  sends  the  Angel  of  Memory 
to  freshen  ideals  grown  dim,  and  so  disturbs  man’s 
contentment.  Now  He  sends  the  anniversary  of 
some  rich  and  thrilling  yesterday,  to  unseal  life’s 
secret  springs. 

He  spoke  to  David  through  a  stern  prophet,  who 
dragged  the  guilty  king  before  the  judgment  seat. 

44 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


45 


He  spoke  to  Solomon  through  Fear,  a  great  and 
awful  figure,  “  treading  on  the  leaves  of  yester¬ 
year.”  He  came  to  Peter  through  the  common 
things  of  life — busy  with  the  day’s  work  at  his 
fishing  nets,  and  called  the  fisherman  to  a  new 
career.  Every  day  some  messenger  stands  knock¬ 
ing  at  the  door  of  man’s  soul,  bringing  overtures 
from  beyond. 

The  soul  is  an  imperial  palace  with  many  and 
rich  rooms.  Intellect  is  a  vast  entrance  hall ; 
memory  is  a  library  filled  with  treasures;  imagina¬ 
tion  is  a  gallery  with  portraits  of  heroes,  angels  or 
seraphs;  conscience  has  her  judgment  seat,  and 
from  time  to  time  messengers  stand  at  the  door. 
Sometimes  they  thunder  at  the  threshold,  and 
sometimes  they  whisper  at  the  windows.  After 
accomplishing  his  murderous  will  upon  the  sleep¬ 
ing  Duncan,  Macbeth  went  into  his  wife’s  room, 
closed  the  door  and  turned  the  key.  It  was  mid¬ 
night.  The  stars  were  out,  and  not  a  leaf  was 
stirring.  In  that  stillness,  guilty  Macbeth  thought 
he  could  hear  even  the  heartbeat  of  the  princess. 
Macbeth  thought  he  heard  steps  in  the  hall  and 
whisperings  at  the  door.  One  voice  said,  “  Sleep 
no  more.  Macbeth  hath  murdered  sleep !  ”  Months 
passed  over  the  palace  while  the  king  guarded  his 
black  secret.  But  Memory  kept  the  face  of  the 
dead  ever  before  him.  Conscience  knew,  and  even 
at  the  banquet  Macbeth  saw  the  dead  man  appear 
at  the  threshold.  Tike  Jacob,  the  guilty  king  had 
met  God’s  messenger  in  life’s  way.  For  evermore 
he  was  to  hear  in  the  night  the  footfall  of  the  un¬ 
seen  pursuer,  for  Nemesis  was  upon  his  track. 


46 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


Oh,  it  is  a  thrilling  journey  that  the  soul  makes 
across  the  continent  of  the  years,  and  for  man’s 
safety  and  recovery  oft  messengers  are  in  the 
way.  Many  centuries  ago  Jacob  met  certain 
messengers  in  life’s  highway.  That  youth  had 
deceived  his  father,  robbed  his  brother,  betrayed 
conscience,  and  now  Jacob  was  overtaken  by 
retribution.  Fleeing  from  the  anger  of  Esau  and 
the  indignation  of  Isaac,  the  youth  became  a  fugi¬ 
tive  from  justice.  Alone  in  the  desert,  Jacob,  the 
youth,  was  not  alone.  The  fear  that  a  troop  of 
armed  men  might  any  moment  overtake  him  shook 
Jacob  until  he  was  like  unto  a  reed  shaken  in  the 
wind.  At  sunset  he  prayed  God  that  darkness 
might  come  and  hide  him  from  Esau’s  venge¬ 
ance.  When  the  night  fell  and  he  was  alone  in  the 
desert,  the  stars  came  out  and  blazed — and  blazed, 
always  the  stars,  two  by  two,  blazing  and  still 
blazing,  and  refusing  to  let  him  sleep.  Often, 
in  the  desert,  he  stopped  his  flight  and  fell  upon 
his  knees  to  confess  his  sin,  to  weep  over  his  deceit 
and  to  pray  God  for  pity  and  pardon.  Exhausted, 
he  fell  back  into  troubled  slumber,  only  to  see  the 
star  on  the  horizon  lengthen  into  a  long  beam  of 
light — and  then  into  a  ladder,  that  sloped  upward 
toward  God’s  throne.  In  his  dream  he  saw  the 
angels  descending  to  bring  good  cheer,  and  ascend¬ 
ing  to  bear  his  penitence  up  to  God.  In  that  mo¬ 
ment  hope  began  to  stir  in  his  heart — hope  that 
black  and  false  as  he  was,  God  might  still  pardon 
a  fugitive  and  an  exile,  and  help  him  redeem  his 
past  and  build  a  better  future. 

How  human  and  real  this  chapter  in  the  story  of 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


47 


a  man’s  soul !  It  might  almost  be  a  page  torn  out 
of  your  own  biography— so  unaffected,  artless  and 
moving  is  this  story.  Nor  need  any  man  in  this 
twentieth  century  think  that  if  visions  once  came 
to  Jacob  in  the  morning  of  history,  that  the  era 
when  God  sends  messengers  has  passed  forever. 
No  life  is  so  isolated,  no  talent  so  obscure,  no  cabin 
so  remote  but  God  girds  the  worker  for  his  task 
and  expects  His  servant  to  play  a  man’s  part.  It  is 
only  in  the  river  that  the  drop  melts  and  loses  its 
individuality.  In  that  human  stream  flowing  along 
Broadway  every  individual  is  a  separate  drop  that 
cannot  coalesce  with  its  fellows.  Every  soul  is  as 
separate  as  a  star  that  dwells  a  million  miles  apart 
from  its  nearest  fellow.  Your  autobiography  is 
filled  with  thrilling  events,  epoch-making  moments, 
when  you  met  the  messengers  divine  in  the  way. 
Just  because  you  are  a  man,  out  on  the  frontier 
line,  a  man  full  of  red  blood  tingling  with  ambition, 
struggling  with  temptation,  oft  staggering  with 
burdens,  a  man  having  in  your  hand  the  destiny  of 
others,  because  a  little  pilgrim  band  is  following 
you  as  leader,  your  journey  along  life’s  way  is  a 
thrilling  drama,  that  fully  justifies  the  entrance  of 
the  messengers  of  God  into  the  earthly  scene. 

Memory  is  a  messenger  at  the  gate  of  man’s 
soul.  To  the  pilgrim  in  life’s  way  comes  the  angel 
of  memory.  Man  lives  a  threefold  life  called  yes¬ 
terday,  today  and  tomorrow.  All  the  yesterdays 
are  his  through  memory,  the  tomorrows  through 
hope,  while  today  is  presided  over  by  reason. 
Hours  come  to  us  all,  when  memory  approaches 
bearing  in  her  arms  the  sheaves  of  yesteryear. 


48 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


Then  she  talks  to  us  as  with  a  familiar  friend. 
While  the  soul  is  busy  here  and  there,  suddenly 
Memory  waves  her  wand,  and  summons  Lady 
Macbeth  to  her  secret  tribunal.  From  this  sub¬ 
poena  there  is  no  appeal.  The  guilty  queen  is  re¬ 
luctant  and  rebellious,  but  Memory  will  not  take 
“  No.”  She  drags  the  beautiful  woman  upon  the 
stage.  Suddenly  the  curtain  is  rung  up,  the  play 
begins,  and  the  centre  of  the  tragedy  is  always  her¬ 
self.  Now  Lady  Macbeth  is  welcoming  Duncan  to 
the  castle,  now  she  is  sharpening  the  dagger  for 
her  husband’s  hands,  now  she  is  stopping  up  all 
the  springs  of  mercy,  now  she  is  filling  him  with 
hatred  from  top  to  toe.  Scene  by  scene,  the 
tragedy  is  enacted  and  re-enacted,  until  every  figure 
is  etched  in  fire.  Oft  the  guilty  queen  tries  to  shut 
out  the  scene  by  closing  the  eyes,  but  lo,  conscience 
touches  the  eyelids  and  makes  them  transparent. 
Oft  she  tries  to  rise  and  flee  the  play,  but  her  feet 
are  lead!  Full  oft  she  journeys  to  other  and  dif¬ 
ferent  scenes,  but  lo,  all  the  scenery  of  that  tragic 
drama  is  carried  about  in  her  own  soul,  like  a 
traveling  company  of  players,  who  carry  their 
scenery  with  them.  No  closet  nor  cell  in  the 
castle  so  remote,  no  wall  so  thick,  but  that  when 
she  listens,  the  footfall  of  Memory  is  heard 
approaching ! 

Some  men’s  sins  go  beforehand  unto  judgment, 
and  some  sins  follow  after,  under  the  guidance  of 
Memory.  As  witnesses  they  come  late  to  furnish 
testimony  against  the  transgressor,  and  convict  him 
of  his  crime.  And  that  which  was  unique  and 
tragic,  in  that  old  castle,  holds  true  of  every  man’s 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


49 


life.  What  an  illuminated  missal  and  illustrated 
volume  is  Memory!  Memory  is  like  a  book  that 
lies  upon  your  lap!  Swiftly  the  scenes  change  as 
you  turn  the  pages!  Now  you  are  looking  upon 
the  old  house  where  you  were  born.  Now  upon 
the  faces  of  your  mates  on  the  old  playground, 
now  upon  the  forest  where  in  October  days  you 
went  with  shouts  for  fruit  and  ripened  nuts !  Now 
you  behold  the  face  of  companions  who  long  ago 
passed  away;  now  you  hear  your  mother’s  voice, 
and  with  her  walk  the  old  familiar  paths,  and  fulfil 
the  dear  old  tasks.  The  thought  that  all  those 
scenes  are  gone,  and  gone  forever,  dims  your  eyes 
and  brings  a  lump  into  your  throat.  What  magic 
is  in  the  voice  of  this  messenger,  named  Memory ! 
What  sacred  ministry  is  hers,  for  rebuke,  correc¬ 
tion,  and  instruction  in  righteousness !  Uncover 
thine  head,  for  the  place  where  thou  standest  is 
holy  ground.  Meeting  Memory  thou  hast  met 
God’s  angel  in  life’s  way. 

Journeying  along  life’s  way,  the  pilgrim  meets 
another  angel  in  the  highway,  and  the  name  of  that 
messenger  is  Fear.  The  wise  king  said  “  the  fear 
of  the  Ford  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.”  When 
man  opens  the  book  of  life,  and  reads  the  first 
paragraph,  he  reads  words  penned  by  Fear,  but 
when  man  comes  to  the  last  chapter  of  the  book  of 
life  he  finds  that  the  love  of  God  is  the  end  of 
wisdom,  and  her  crown.  Long  time  stands  between 
the  seed  and  with  its  fruit  of  the  date  palm,  but  the 
seed  is  the  important  thing;  and  that  seed  of  fear 
may,  after  long  time,  ripen  into  the  fruit  of  obedi¬ 
ence  and  loyalty.  Fear  sits  in  the  window  of  a 


50 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


man’s  soul,  and  hears  afar  off  the  approach  of  iron 
feet.  Fear  announces  the  coming  of  an  armed 
troop.  Fear  looks  toward  the  horizon  when  the 
first  red  beam  of  day  shoots  up,  and  prophesies 
storm  clouds,  earthquakes,  the  overthrow  of  houses 
and  the  fall  of  the  city.  The  wicked  flee  when  no 
man  pursueth,  for  the  sound  of  a  quivering  leaf 
shall  chase  him.  The  coward  dies  a  thousand 
deaths,  yet  still  lives  on.  Charles  Dickens  brings 
the  fugitive  to  a  garret  in  a  deserted  house.  The 
room  is  an  attic,  the  window  broken,  the  scene 
squalid,  the  rafters  thick  with  spiders’  webs. 
Never  was  a  hiding  place  more  secure,  or  better 
chosen.  Suddenly  a  noise  is  heard.  It  is  a  mouse 
at  a  knothole  in  the  floor.  Fear  enlarges  the  tiny 
eyes  until  they  become  big  as  the  eyes  of  a  police¬ 
man.  The  fugitive  starts  up  in  terror.  The 
muscles  standing  out  like  whipcords.  Cold  sweat 
streams  from  his  face.  Of  what  is  the  fugitive 
afraid?  What  vague  and  awful  figure,  spectre¬ 
like,  is  pursuing  this  guilty  man?  There  is  a  dis¬ 
ease  of  the  tongue  that  sets  the  papillae  thrilling 
with  the  silliest  forms  of  pleasure  and  exquisite 
delight,  to  be  followed  a  moment  later  with  pains 
that  pierce  like  swords,  for  Nature  has  turned  upon 
herself  in  this  diseased  condition.  Thus  sin  has  so 
outraged  this  fugitive’s  soul  that  Fear  has  become 
his  pursuer  and  Conscience  his  executioner,  while 
Remorse  is  a  cord  that  chokes  the  throat.  The 
penalty  of  sin  is  not  public  exposure.  The  youth 
who  trembles  at  the  thought  of  discovery  through 
his  employer  will  find  a  terror  beyond  that.  Retri¬ 
bution  is  not  imposed  by  jailors.  Hell  is  not  some- 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


51 


thing  to  come,  in  far-off  realms!  Milton  speaks 
for  all  men — “  myself  am  hell.” 

Over  in  a  city  of  Pennsylvania,  old  men  still  tell 
the  story  of  the  Molly  Maguire  murders.  A  brave 
detective  joined  the  secret  society  under  an  assumed 
name.  Pie  became  its  secretary,  kept  the  records  of 
all  meetings,  and  sent  daily  transcripts  of  all  plans 
for  crime  unto  the  officials.  At  last  the  time  came 
for  justice  and  penalty.  The  leaders  were  brought 
to  trial.  The  court  room  was  crowded  with  several 
hundred  men,  each  one  of  whom  felt  that  his  own 
relation  to  the  crimes  were  quite  unknown  and  un¬ 
expected.  At  last  the  moment  struck.  The  prose¬ 
cuting  attorney  called  the  name  of  Captain  McPar- 
lan.  The  onlookers  smiled.  Not  one  of  them  had 
ever  heard  of  James  McParlan.  Suddenly  a  man 
stepped  forward,  and  took  his  place  upon  the  wit¬ 
ness  stand,  saying,  “  I  am  James  McParlan!  ”  Po, 
he  was  their  own  secretary !  He  held  their  secrets. 
He  knew  not  only  their  names,  but  had  kept  the 
records  of  their  crimes.  For  thirty  seconds  that 
room  held  but  one  heart,  and  that  heart  did  not 
beat  nor  breathe !  Then  one  low,  gurgling  sob 
swept  over  that  courtroom.  Full  fifty  men  broke 
into  one  muffled  curse.  A  moment  later  more 
than  fifty  men  were  plunging  through  windows  and 
doors  in  panic  as  they  fled  from  justice  and  penalty. 
That  was  perhaps  the  most  thrilling  moment  in  the 
history  of  American  crime!  Of  necessity,  Fear 
casts  its  shadow  on  before.  It  is  the  twilight  going 
before  the  advancing  darkness  and  night.  Fear  is 
the  thunderbolt  leaping  out  of  a  cloud  big  with 
retribution.  It’s  voice  whispers,  “  Whatsoever  a 


52 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


man  soweth,  that  shall  he  reap.”  For  Fear  is  a 
God-sent  messenger !  Therefore  the  wise  man  said, 
“  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wis¬ 
dom.”  It  warns  man  to  keep  God’s  command¬ 
ments,  for  this  is  indeed  “  the  whole  duty  of  man.” 

Another  messenger  of  God  is  the  angel  of  Rev¬ 
erence  that  comes  to  touch  man’s  soul  with  the 
sense  of  awe.  For  Reverence  lies  at  the  very  heart 
of  all  that  is  noblest  in  man.  If  Moses’  face  shone 
without,  it  was  because  that  majestic  soul  had 
stood  before  the  quaking  mount,  and  knelt  before 
the  bush  blazing  with  the  presence  of  God.  Rever¬ 
ence  is  the  upward  look  that  lifts  the  soul  to  divine 
levels.  For  the  youth  who  finds  nothing  in  the 
universe  to  admire,  there  is  nothing  left  to  fear. 
To  him  every  evil  thing  has  already  happened! 
The  house  of  his  soul  is  already  ruined!  Milton 
understood.  The  poet  made  Lucifer  revolt  against 
the  sense  of  awe  and  reverence.  This  proud  angel 
desired  no  intellect  superior  to  his  own,  denied 
there  could  be  a  throne,  before  which  he  must  bow. 
Lucifer  was  willing  to  look  down  upon  his  in¬ 
feriors,  but  unwilling  to  look  up  toward  the  throne 
where  dwelt  infinite  Wisdom  and  Love!  When 
reverence  goes,  all  nobility  falls.  The  vulgarity, 
the  sordidness,  the  meanness  of  some  modern  lit¬ 
erature  and  art  is  explained  by  this  revolt  against 
reverence.  Coleridge’s  hymn  at  Chamonix  was 
born  of  a  poet  who  was  great  enough  to  prostrate 
himself  in  an  hour  when  the  white  snows  of  Mont 
Blanc  became  altars,  when  the  white  clouds  became 
prayers,  and  all  the  falling  of  the  waterfalls  and  the 
cry  of  the  eagles  were  transmuted  into  hymns  of 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


53 


praise,  rising  to  the  throne  of  the  Unseen  God. 
Man’s  soul  descends  to  the  level  of  the  beast,  in  the 
hour  when  it  loses  the  sense  of  splendour  and 
sanctity  that  haunts  midnight  and  midday.  Take 
reverence  and  awe  out  of  the  soul,  and  this  universe 
all  fretted  with  golden  fires  becomes  a  mere  as¬ 
sembly  of  pestilential  vapours.  It  is  the  sense  of 
reverence  that  lends  dignity  and  allurement  to  the 
battlefields  of  liberty,  to  the  historic  abbeys  and 
memorials  of  the  great,  and  to  the  tombs  where 
heroes  sleep.  What  thoughtful  man  can  stand  in 
that  little  garret  in  Stockbridge,  where  Jonathan 
Edwards  wrote  the  greatest  philosophical  book  of 
his  century,  The  Freedom  of  the  Will,  without 
being  conscious  of  reverence  that  refreshens  the  will 
and  strengthens  every  purpose?  What  is  it  that 
casts  the  spell  of  silence  and  mystery  upon  the  soul 
when  we  stand  in  the  little  house  where  Shakes¬ 
peare  was  born?  That  which  exalts  the  traveler, 
and  lifts  his  being  into  a  rapture  of  passionate 
delight  as  he  walks  the  streets  of  Florence,  is  not 
its  palaces,  its  galleries,  its  towers  and  domes ;  that 
which  strikes  the  soul  through  with  quivering  de¬ 
light  is  the  sense  of  reverence  and  awe,  born  of  the 
haunting  presences  of  the  martyred  Savonarola, 
the  divine  Dante  and  the  lofty,  dedicated  soul  of 
Michael  Angelo.  Your  dead  have  turned  certain 
rooms  in  your  homes  into  shrines  of  awe  and 
chapels  of  veneration.  Thither  came  the  angels  of 
God  to  release  one  you  loved!  Therefore  you  can 
never  cross  the  threshold  of  that  room  without 
knowing  that  with  altered  eyes  you  look  upon  an 
altered  world.  Uncover  thine  head,  for  behold 


54- 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


thou  hast  met  God’s  angel  in  the  way!  Whatso¬ 
ever  that  angel  saith,  do  it ! 

God  sends  another  messenger  to  man,  and  the 
name  of  that  angel  is  Conscience.  Other  messen¬ 
gers  are  royal — this  one  is  divine.  Intellect  chooses 
a  course  for  the  ship,  constructive  genius  assembles 
the  great  cargo,  but  Conscience  holds  the  compass, 
and  steers  by  the  eternal  stars.  God  hath  not  left 
Himself  without  a  witness  concerning  things  that 
are  wrong  and  right.  Man  is  like  a  little  child 
on  the  nether  rim  of  a  vast  continent,  and  left 
to  go  alone  into  the  wilderness,  across  the  desert, 
over  river  and  mountain;  and  man  would  have 
fallen  by  the  way,  had  not  certain  angels  encamped 
upon  his  right  hand,  and  his  left.  In  a  moral  uni¬ 
verse  no  pilgrim  can  be  permitted  to  do  wrong, 
without  warning  of  the  peril  thereof.  When 
Joseph’s  brethren  had  sold  their  brother  into 
slavery,  God  sent  forth  Conscience  as  a  messenger 
to  find  them  walking  in  the  fields.  Often  had  they 
promised  one  another  never  to  speak  Joseph’s 
name,  and  yet  the  question  would  keep  coming  up : 
Is  there  danger  of  our  father’s  discovering  the 
crime  we  have  wrought  upon  our  brother?  Even 
in  their  dreams  they  heard  the  crack  of  the  slave- 
driver’s  whip,  falling  upon  the  innocent  flesh  of 
their  own  kinsman.  Oft  at  midnight  they  shook 
with  fear.  There  is  a  story  of  a  traveler  on  the 
desert,  who  overtook  a  merchant  named  Ibycus. 
Inflamed  by  avarice,  and  suspecting  that  the  trav¬ 
eler’s  rags  were  to  create  the  impression  of  pov¬ 
erty,  the  youth  slew  the  pilgrim  and  robbed  him  of 
the  gems.  As  he  was  burying  the  body  in  the  sand 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


55 


the  traveler  chanced  to  look  up,  and  saw  two  wild 
fowl  passing  through  the  sky,  on  their  way  toward 
northern  lakes,  but  the  murderer  gave  the  cranes 
only  a  passing  thought.  Going  into  the  city,  the 
youth  sold  the  gems  and  bought  his  way  to  office 
and  lands.  Long  afterward,  one  day,  the  slayer 
was  watching  the  sports  at  the  annual  Olympic 
games.  It  was  autumn.  Suddenly  from  the  sky 
he  heard  the  cry  of  the  wild  fowl  and,  looking 
up,  saw  two  cranes,  flying  southward.  Springing 
from  his  seat,  the  man  stretched  upward  his  arms 
and  cried  out,  “  The  cranes  of  Ibycus !  The  cranes 
of  Ibycus!  ”  Soon  the  story  came  to  the  ears  of 
a  friend  of  the  diamond  merchant  who  had  dis¬ 
appeared.  Why  had  Ibycus  never  returned? 
How  did  this  man  know  his  name?  The  thread 
soon  drew  a  garment,  and  lo,  the  garment  drew  in 
the  dead  man's  body.  One  day  the  slayer  stood 
before  the  judge,  told  the  whole  story,  and  asked 
for  punishment.  He  said  he  hungered  for  punish¬ 
ment,  as  the  pilgrim  for  water!  Such  power  hath 
Conscience  to  touch  natural  objects,  and  at  the 
cock’s  crow,  makes  Peter  weep !  As  the  sun  goes 
down  in  the  afternoon,  makes  Saul  shake  with 
terror!  At  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  calling  the 
advance,  makes  David  choke  with  fear ;  at  the 
flight  of  two  wild  cranes  in  the  air  shakes  that 
Greek  with,  terror.  Memory  and  Conscience  for¬ 
get  nothing!  Deeds  do  not  die.  Sins  are  seeds 
which  by  and  by  will  bring  a  harvest  of  penalty. 
Every  man  must  give  an  account  of  every  secret 
thing  unto  God ! 

Another  messenger  stands  at  the  gates  of  man’s 


56 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


soul,  with  face  most  beautiful  and  name  of, 
Love !  Beholding  the  rusty  hinges  of  the  door,  he 
stands  at  the  threshold  and  knocks.  He  wears  no 
black  robes  of  penalty,  waves  no  flaming  sword  of 
Conscience,  brings  no  fetters  forged  by  Fear.  He 
stretches  out  his  hands  to  shield  and  bless.  For 
Him  laws  are  not  hurtling  thunderbolts.  For  Him, 
laws  are  warnings,  and  safeguards  sent  to  ignorant 
and  foolish  men.  Unto  each  soul  he  whispers, 
“  Thou  art  mine !  Thou  hast  been  mine  from  the 
beginning  at  thy  cradle!”  The  gifts  he  brings 
are  gifts  of  forgiveness,  peace,  and  redemption 
from  the  past.  All  he  asks  is  acceptance  of  the 
treasure  he  holds  in  his  hands.  Ever  Love 
whispers:  “The  past  is  yours,  in  memory;  the 
future  also,  through  hope.  This  throbbing,  pres¬ 
ent  moment  also  is  thine !  Therefore  rise  up  and 
follow  me.” 

Oh,  all  ye  young  hearts !  Soon  we  will  go  the  way 
of  all  the  earth.  What  you  do,  do  quickly.  The 
Stranger  at  the  door  met  Nicodemus  only  once. 
Once  only  He  made  overtures  of  friendship  to  the 
Samaritan  woman.  Once  He  spake  to  the  young 
ruler,  and  once  only  the  ruler  went  away  never  to 
return!  Unto  every  one  of  you,  today,  signals 
have  been  hanged  out.  Lo,  messengers  are  here ! 
Staying  your  steps  today  for  one  moment!  Rise 
ere  it  be  too  late!  What  strong  man  but  remem¬ 
bers  an  hour  of  peril  when  certain  destruction 
impended,  and  when  you  cried  to  your  father’s 
God,  and  deliverance  came!  Surely  you  dare  not 
affirm  that  God’s  angels  in  the  way  have  never  met 
you!  What  woman  can  but  recall  certain  golden 


MESSENGERS  AT  THE  GATE 


57 


hours  when  the  clouds  were  filled  with  light,  and 
the  way  became  plain!  Down  in  your  heart  you 
know  that  in  that  hour  you  met  God's  angel  in  the 
way.  What  youth,  choosing  paths  of  pleasure  and 
passion  has  not  awakened  to  utter  exhaustion  and 
nausea,  and  cried  out  in  disgust.  There  in  fear  and 
remorse  you  met  angels  in  life’s  way.  And  now, 
again,  unseen  messengers  are  at  the  gate !  They 
wait  your  answer !  Do  not  delay !  Harden  not 
your  hearts !  Surrender  the  will !  Dedicate  your 
talents,  realising  that  what  you  do  determines  char¬ 
acter  and  fixes  destiny!  The  hour  is  big  with 
destiny !  What  answer  will  you  give  to  the 
stranger  standing  at  the  door?  The  mere  refusal 
to  decide  is  an  answer  in  itself !  Therefore  rise  up, 
forsake  all,  and  follow  the  Dord  of  life — the 
Master  of  destiny! 


IV 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 

u And  Esau  came  in  from  the  field.  .  .  .  And  Esau 
said  to  Jacob,  Feed  me,  I  pray  thee,  with  that  same  red 
pottage ;  for  1  am  faint:  And  Jacob  said,  Sell  me  this 
day  thy  birthright.  And  Esau  said,  Behold,  I  am  at  the 
point  to  die;  and  what  profit  shall  this  birthright  be  to 
me?  .  .  .  and  he  sold  his  birthright  unto  Jacob.” — Gen. 
xxv :  29-33. 

THE  ancient,  poet-king  is  not  a  favourite  of 
our  generation,  but  the  old  Hebrews  looked 
upon  David  as  the  ideal  of  a  minstrel  hero 
— their  Hebrew  Homer.  The  spell  he  cast  upon 
his  generation  is  described  thus :  “  He  seemed  as 
an  angel  of  God.”  From  our  viewpoint,  David’s 
fame  rests  upon  his  work  as  a  reformer,  a  man 
who  put  down  the  revolt  of  the  old  native  stock, 
ended  the  era  of  civil  war,  and  started  the  people 
along  lines  of  commerce  and  industry.  Had  he 
died  during  his  forties,  David’s  era  would  have 
been  the  golden  age  in  Hebrew  history.  But, 
grown  prosperous,  he  relaxed  his  moral  muscles, 
and  temptations  came  in  like  a  flood.  A  goodly 
vineyard  may  be  destroyed  slowly  through  neglect, 
and  its  gradual  processes ;  it  may  be  destroyed 
swiftly  by  lifting  an  axe  upon  the  vines.  By  one 
hour  of  neglect,  David,  like  a  keeper  who  slept  at 
the  gate  of  the  castle,  let  his  enemies  in,  and  the 

58 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


59 


whole  structure  of  his  life  came  crashing  down. 
So  grievous  were  the  mistake  and  sin  that  he  found 
no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought  it  long 
with  tears.  The  king  was  untrue  to  his  people,  the 
shepherd  betrayed  his  flock,  the  soldier  was  false  to 
the  chivalry  of  arms.  From  that  hour  he  became 
the  target  toward  which  misfortune  and  trouble 
pointed  all  their  venomed  shafts. 

The  essence  of  a  hundred  ordinary  tragedies, 
like  those  of  Sophocles  and  Shakespeare,  are  swept 
into  David’s  single  career.  The  shepherd  boy 
begins  in  the  fields,  like  one  of  the  Horatii,  became 
the  champion  against  Goliath,  and  was  the  idol  of 
the  people.  As  Hamlet  avoided  the  king’s  poison, 
so  David  escaped  Saul’s  javelin.  As  Macbeth,  ever 
ambitious,  went  through  slaughter  to  a  throne,  so 
David  went  through  blood  toward  his  happiness. 
As  King  Fear  reaped  sorrow  from  sin,  going  from 
his  palace  into  the  snow  and  pitiless  storm,  so 
David,  in  his  old  age,  fled  from  his  capital,  and 
through  Absalom  discovered  that  “  sharper  than  a 
serpent’s  tooth  is  a  thankless  child.”  As  Queen 
Elizabeth  planned  the  execution  of  Queen  Mary, 
and  made  Davidson  her  scapegoat,  so  David  used 
Joab  as  his  instrument,  and  later  would  have  made 
the  soldier  responsible  for  his  own  crime.  Take  it 
all  in  all,  this  is  one  of  the  biggest  canvases  ever 
spread,  and  has  more  dark  and  light,  more  crimson 
and  black,  than  any  tragedy  in  Shakespeare.  Yet 
so  strangely  overruled  was  David’s  sin,  that  his 
psalm  of  repentance  has  been  for  centuries  a  spring 
of  purity.  Sobbing  over  its  pages,  Augustine 
found  hope,  and  Thomas  a  Kempis  peace.  It  was 


60 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


the  Psalms  that  were  best  loved  by  John  Bunyan, 
as  they  have  been  of  many  of  the  greatest  saints 
and  noblest  heroes  of  history.  How  does  a  sin, 
like  a  bow,  spring  the  soul  back  toward  righteous¬ 
ness  and  God?  No  man  knows,  nor  shall  know, 
until  we  discover  why  the  blackest  sloughs  grow 
white  lilies. 

The  extremes  of  life  strained  David’s  strength 
to  the  uttermost.  Startling  changes  and  sudden 
contrasts  test  men,  and  sometimes  break  them 
down.  The  wise  physician  guards  the  invalid 
against  the  trying  days  of  February,  when  one 
day  the  south  wind  blows  softly  and  the  next 
day  the  north  wind  blows  sharply  and  the  mer¬ 
cury  falls  thirty  degrees  below  freezing  point. 
Heat  iron  red-hot,  then  plunge  it  into  ice-water, 
and  soon  the  extremes  will  make  the  atoms  lose 
their  grip.  Molten  ruby  glass  must  be  guarded, 
for  a  drop  of  cold  water  will  feather  the  crimson 
glass,  and  shiver  it.  The  old  science  talked  about 
the  fire-bellows  melting  rocks,  and  the  ice-ploughs 
smoothing  them,  and  brought  the  two  extremes 
close  together.  The  new  science  tells  us  that  a 
million  years  stood  between  the  era  of  fiery  heat 
and  the  glacial  epoch,  and  that  there  were  no  sharp 
extremes.  But,  now  and  then,  there  is  a  David  in 
whom  all  the  extremes,  strength  and  weakness,  gold 
and  crusts,  palace  and  hut,  hilltop  and  valley,  are 
in  close  juxtaposition.  Witness  Job,  strained, 
tested  and  tempered,  by  extremes.  Now  he  has 
palace,  children,  a  troop  of  friends,  herds,  flocks; 
now  the  palace  falls,  through  an  earthquake,  his 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


61 


children  are  dead,  his  gold  takes  wings,  his  herds 
disappear,  health  gives  way,  friends  desert,  his  wife 
scoffs,  and  his  Gethsemane  hour  is  very  bitter. 
The  Satan  of  the  drama  was  sure  that  the  ex¬ 
tremes  would  break  Job  down,  and  that  his  career 
would  end  with  curses,  rebellion  and  wickedness. 

Witness  many  men  whom  you  have  known  in 
this  great  city.  The  youth  came  up  hither  un¬ 
known  and  friendless.  Personal  charm  opened 
golden  doors.  Soon  he  sends  his  plans  out  like 
merchant  ships,  carrying  rich  cargoes.  Office,  hon¬ 
ours,  prosperity — all  are  his.  Then  reverses  come. 
Life’s  summer  day  ends  with  a  black  storm,  clouds 
are  piled  mountain  high,  and  the  whole  earth  reels 
under  the  shock.  When  the  clouds  part,  the  man 
is  peeled  and  stripped.  Naked  he  entered  into  life, 
and  naked  he  goes  out.  Oh,  these  reverses  of  pros¬ 
perous  men!  Today  fame,  tomorrow  obscurity. 
Today  riches,  tomorrow  the  treasures  have  taken 
wings  and  fled  away!  Today,  loved  ones,  tomor¬ 
row,  the  silent  house  and  the  voice  that  is  still. 
Today,  a  giant’s  strength,  tomorrow,  the  grass¬ 
hopper  become  a  burden.  Unforeseen,  these  ex¬ 
tremes  and  reverses  are  inevitable  as  well  as 
sudden.  The  Lord's  hand  lifteth  men  up,  and  it  is 
His  will  that  casteth  men  down.  Suddenly,  David 
went  from  his  father’s  flocks  to  the  king’s  palace, 
from  obscurity  to  the  position  of  place;  from 
neglect,  to  the  crowds  that  shouted  when  he  ap¬ 
peared  on  the  streets.  Soon  the  spiced  wine  went 
to  his  head.  Dizzy,  he  saw  men  as  streets  walking. 
Becoming  vain,  and  selfish,  his  moral  distinctions 
were  blurred.  He  lost  his  simplicity  of  soul,  and 


62 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


its  loss  was  fatal.  Stumbling,  he  plunged  into  the 
abyss  of  infamy  and  crime.  Oh,  it  was  a  black 
fall!  Not  one  hideous  line  must  be  softened  nor 
one  black  spot  concealed.  The  explanation  is  in 
life’s  extremes,  for  he  who  climbs  high  has  the 
farther  to  fall,  and  is  the  more  hurt  when  he  hits 
the  bottom  of  the  abyss. 

Temptations  overtook  the  poet-king  in  un¬ 
guarded  moments.  There  is  a  proverb  among  ship 
captains  that  no  anchor  chain  is  stronger  than  its 
weakest  link.  Man’s  strength  also  is  no  greater 
than  his  weakest  hour.  There  are  epochs  and 
moods  when  the  intellect  is  struck  through  with 
light,  when  moral  distinctions  are  so  clear,  when 
virtue  is  so  beautiful,  and  self-sacrifice  and  truth 
so  alluring,  that  the  soul  turns  away  from  tempta¬ 
tion  and  sin  as  the  nostril  and  the  eye  turn  from 
the  mire  and  filth.  Hours  of  publicity  come,  when 
the  employer,  the  politician,  the  citizen,  are  centers 
of  scrutiny,  and,  standing  in  the  limelight,  the  man 
is  on  his  mettle,  and  shows  himself  at  his  best.  If 
life  were  a  stage,  and  you  were  an  actor,  and  all  the 
people  were  in  the  mood  to  applaud  noble  deeds  and 
to  hiss  selfish  ones,  you  would  never  go  astray. 
Life’s  perilous  hours  are  the  quiet  hours — hours  of 
rest,  relaxation  and  solitude.  At  these  moments 
Satan,  like  an  angel  of  light,  plans  his  attacks.  The 
story  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world  indicates 
that  the  strongest  side  of  a  fortress  is  the  weakest 
side,  and  there  the  enemy  gains  entrance. 

Read  the  history  of  the  capture  of  Quebec.  One 
side  of  the  fortress  is  a  precipice,  and  that  was  left 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


63 


to  take  care  of  itself;  the  other  three  sides  were 
exposed,  and  there  Montcalm  massed  his  forces  for 
defense.  Meanwhile,  Wolfe  knew  that  the  preci¬ 
pice  was  the  place  to  be  attacked.  Apparently, 
Wolfe  was  trying  to  force  an  entrance  on  the  three 
dangerous  sides,  yet  when  the  day  dawned  Mont¬ 
calm  discovered  that  a  regiment  of  soldiers  had 
scaled  the  precipice  and  were  pouring  hot  shot  into 
his  rear.  And  so  the  apparently  impregnable  fort¬ 
ress  fell.  Thus  men  do  not  go  down  on  the  side 
where  they  are  weakest;  they  are  attacked  on  the 
side  where  they  are  strongest  and  apparently  need 
least  defense.  Men  like  Robert  Burns  have  nearly 
always  been  destroyed  through  temptations  called 
godlike.  Had  evil  approached  the  poet  and  tempted 
him  to  cruelty,  lies,  theft,  treason,  he  would  have 
scoffed  at  the  allurements,  and  trampled  them 
underfoot  like  the  scorpion  and  the  serpent.  But 
when  the  men  of  the  village  drew  Burns  into  a  little 
inn,  and  he  saw  how  sodden  were  their  days,  how 
cheerless  their  nights,  how  hungry  they  were  for  a 
little  laughter  and  a  little  song,  then,  in  his  desire 
to  please  and  make  beautiful  their  hours,  he  poured 
out  the  cup  of  his  genius,  and  often  in  a  desire  to 
give  pleasure  that  was  in  itself  a  laudable  ambition, 
he  went  down  to  base  men’s  level,  and  mixed  one 
evil  drop  in  the  honeyed  cup.  His  drinking  songs 
spread  evil  like  a  contagion,  and  so  Burns’  soul  was 
spoiled  and  captured  on  the  side  where  he  was 
noblest. 

That  is  why  many  of  the  promising  men  of  every 
generation  wreck  their  careers.  The  wasp  chooses 
the  largest  and  most  glorious  peach,  and  there 


64.  HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 

stings  the  skin,  and  deposits  the  egg,  and  the  worm 
goes  to  the  heart  of  the  luscious  fruit.  Satan 
seems  to  pass  by  selfish  men,  skinny  souls  and  little, 
narrow  intellects.  Misers  are  seldom  drunkards. 
Avaricious  men  do  not  love  splendour,  finery  or 
show.  The  devil  doesn’t  have  to  worry  himself 
over  Mr.  Skinflint  or  Mr.  Hard  Scrabble.  Satan 
knows  that  they  are  so  mean  that  they  will  ruin 
their  own  souls  without  any  external  help.  When 
heredity  gives  Aaron  Burr  the  intellect  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  then,  conscious  of  his  mental  superiority, 
the  Spirit  of  Evil  sends  ambition  to  attack  Aaron 
Burr,  and  the  attack  is  made  on  the  side  where 
Burr  is  strongest,  namely,  his  intellectual  side. 
Ambition  whispers  that  he  is  superior,  and  ought 
to  outrank  Hamilton  and  Jefferson  and  Adams,  and 
when  the  country  will  not  give  him  supremacy  am¬ 
bition  whispers  that  he  can  go  into  the  Southwest, 
and  out  of  Mexico  found  a  greater  country. 
There  fell  Aaron  Burr.  Every  man  has  the  weak¬ 
ness  of  his  strongest  faculty.  It  is  not  the  silent 
man  that  is  tempted  through  over-speech;  it  is  the 
man  who  has  the  art  of  putting  things,  who,  in  a 
mood  of  anger,  sends  out  words  that  are  like  poi¬ 
soned  daggers  that  inflict  injuries  in  one  moment 
that  a  lifetime  of  struggle  could  not  repair.  Who 
shall  measure  the  danger  of  these  lawless  hours 
when  the  sentinel  sleeps  and  the  City  of  Mansoul 
is  exposed  to  peril?  David  was  taken  off  guard. 
He  was  like  the  keeper  of  the  castle,  who  thought 
no  peril  was  near,  unto  whom  came  the  gipsy  girl, 
bringing  cakes  and  wine,  to  overcome  the  youth 
who  was  stronger  than  Goliath,  and,  when  his 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


65 


senses  are  stolen  away,  lo,  the  gipsy  leads  in  the 
enemy’s  troop,  and  the  champion  of  the  army 
wakens  from  his  stupor  to  find  the  castle  in  flames 
and  his  treasures  gone.  Oh,  all  ye  young  hearts, 
guard  against  your  weaker  hours.  The  vacation 
moment  brings  peril  with  its  relaxation.  The  Sat¬ 
urday  night,  when  the  hours  are  all  your  own,  and 
you  are  alone  in  the  great  city,  and  no  eyes  are 
upon  you,  and  you  seem  lost,  like  a  drop  in  a  river, 
then  watch  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation, 
and  the  City  of  Mansoul  be  spoiled  of  its  beauty 
and  its  divine  treasure. 

Superior  natures,  gifted  men,  a  king  like  David, 
are  tempted  to  believe  that  things  are  right  for  the 
sons  of  genius  that  would  be  wrong  for  ordinary 
men.  In  every  age,  gifted  poets  like  David,  gifted 
soldiers  and  men  of  genius,  artists  and  orators, 
have  claimed  exemption  from  ordinary  rules.  In 
his  history  of  the  Renaissance,  John  Addington 
Symonds  apologises  for  Andrea  del  Sarto’s  tragedy 
and  Raphael’s  sins  by  saying:  “  We  must  remem¬ 
ber  that  these  artists  are  not  to  be  judged  like  ordi¬ 
nary  men.”  That  was  Byron’s  plea;  he  was  a  man 
of  genius,  and  did  not  propose  to  submit  himself  to 
laws  that  were  quite  proper  for  peasants  and  clod¬ 
hoppers.  That  was  Wagner’s  plea,  for  when  public 
opinion  in  Munich  and  Paris  criticised  him  for 
cruelty,  and  neglect,  to  those  whom  he  should  have 
loved,  he  tossed  off  the  moral  obligations  jauntily 
and  haughtily  by  saying :  “  Am  I  not  to  have  a  little 
pleasure  myself  in  hours  when  I  am  giving  pleasure 
to  the  whole  world  through  my  genius  ?  ” 


66 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


That,  too,  is  the  excuse  of  the  industrial  king, 
who  lords  it  over  his  workmen,  counting  himself  to 
be  superior  stuff,  and  this  poet-king,  who  ruled  by 
“divine  right. ”  The  people  cheered  David  in  the 
streets,  the  women  praised  him,  the  children  scat¬ 
tered  flowers  in  his  path,  his  will  was  law,  and  what 
he  wanted  he  must  have.  An  under-officer  like 
Uriah  had  no  rights  that  the  king  was  bound  to 
respect.  Under-soldiers  were  clay,  and  the  prince 
in  the  palace  was  marble  and  gold,  and  these  dis¬ 
tinctions  must  be  observed.  Let  Uriah  lose  all,  if 
King  David  but  gain  pleasure  for  a  passing  mo¬ 
ment.  And  so  David  ruthlessly  plucked  the  red  rose 
out  of  poor  Uriah’s  hand,  and  wore  the  flower  for  a 
day  upon  his  own  breast.  But  power  brings  peril. 
Privilege  often  breaks  down  the  strongest.  There 
is  -one  argument  against  autocracy  political,  or 
autocracy  industrial,  that  is  sufficient — namely,  the 
egotism  and  arrogance  that  are  called  out  in  even 
the  best  men  by  the  sense  of  absolute  power. 

Witness  the  Stuarts.  They  ruled  by  what  they 
called  “  divine  right,”  and  looked  down  from  an 
infinite  remove  upon  the  common  heard.  Yet  none 
of  them,  first  to  last,  had  brains  enough  to  have 
earned  five  pounds  a  month.  Their  ability  would 
have  hardly  warranted  a  man  in  hiring  them  as 
stable  boys.  All  left  a  little  slime  on  almost 
everything  they  ever  touched.  But  for  insufferable 
arrogance,  colossal  egotism,  vapid  impertinence, 
commend  us  to  the  letters  and  words  of  these  en¬ 
throned  nothings,  these  gilded  ciphers,  and  per¬ 
fumed  humbugs.  But  you  could  hardly  expect 
otherwise.  When  the  Stuarts  had  absolute  power, 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


67 


the  corollary  was  that  they  had  more  power  than 
other  men  because  they  had  a  different  quality  of 
soul  from  other  men.  Now  and  then  the  same 
spirit  appears  among  the  industrial  kings.  Occa¬ 
sionally  a  man  who  has  charge  of  thousands  of 
workmen  grows  despotic,  tyrannical.  Here  is  the 
industrial  despot  who  sets  himself  against  the  right 
of  working  people  to  have  a  union.  As  he  has 
many  plants,  he  closes  the  one  where  the  men  be¬ 
long  to  the  union.  At  Martin’s  Ferry,  the  autocrat 
of  industrial  power  found  that  about  one-tenth  of 
the  men  were  unionised.  He  shut  the  works,  kept 
them  closed  for  twelve  months,  and  nearly  starved 
to  death  three  or  four  thousand  families.  Person¬ 
ally,  you  and  your  friend  may  have  such  a  love  of 
independence  that  you  do  not  want  to  surrender 
your  liberty  to  a  union,  but  the  moment  that  union¬ 
ised  capital  in  some  Martin’s  Ferry  said  to  us, 
“  You  shall  not  do  this,  or  you  shall  not  do  that,” 
that  moment,  to  assert  our  liberty,  we  would 
straightway  unionise  ourselves.  Growing  bitter, 
therefore,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  the  nine-tenths  that 
never  had  belonged  to  the  union,  began  to  seethe 
like  a  pot,  and  when  one  found  an  anarchistic  paper 
heaped  up  on  the  newsstand,  the  answer  was  eight 
hundred  copies  of  that  nihilistic  sheet  were  being 
distributed  in  the  town.  One  act  of  tyranny  by 
that  employer  bred  war  and  anarchy.  Insufferable 
arrogance  and  the  autocratic  power  of  a  unionised 
capitalist,  who  thought  himself  exempt  from  all 
ordinary  laws,  and  superior  to  the  every-day  prin¬ 
ciples  of  American  liberty  threatened  the  prosperity 
of  the  whole  region!  One  selfish  industrial  tyrant 


68 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


yonder  can  sow  dragons’  teeth  for  American 
society.  This  evil  influence  will  reappear  in  pil¬ 
lage,  arson,  treason,  and  industrial  warfare. 

All  sins  are  huge  blunders,  and  every  sin  is  big 
with  its  own  penalty.  Unto  David,  Satan  came  as 
an  angel  of  light,  and  a  hideous  hog  of  vice  was 
clothed  like  a  beautiful  angel  of  virtue.  Strange 
the  hypnotic  power  of  sin,  that  can  charm  men,  and 
dazzle  their  senses.  Through  these  specious  argu¬ 
ments,  war  that  is  nothing  but  murder,  and  legal¬ 
ised  brigandage,  becomes  a  means  of  securing  the 
survival  of  the  fittest.  Drunkenness  and  passion 
are  set  forth  as  methods  of  doing  away  with  the 
unfit.  Slowly  honesty  is  transformed  into  policy. 
Righteousness  becomes  mere  expediency,  until  men 
are  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  strongest  cattle  horn 
away  the  weak  ones,  and  secure  the  fodder.  The 
end  is  that  the  cunning,  the  subtle,  and  the  trickster 
flourish  like  the  green  bay  tree,  and  live  on  life’s 
good  things,  while  patriots  and  heroes  starve  or  go 
to  the  stake.  Under  this  delusion  David  slew 
Uriah,  but  embraced,  not  an  angel  of  happiness, 
but  a  demon  that  put  a  knife  through  his  heart. 
The  sin  was  a  worm,  boring  at  the  heart  of  the  tree, 
and  one  day  the  great  tree,  strong  without,  but  rot¬ 
ten  within,  came  crashing  to  the  earth. 

Satan  pays  foolish  boys  for  their  crimes,  with 
counterfeit  money,  and  then  jeers  at  their  anguish. 
After  Jefferson  Davis  fled  from  Richmond,  three 
wagons,  loaded  with  Confederate  paper  money, 
were  captured  on  the  edge  of  the  mountains. 
Davis  worked  the  printing  presses  until  they  broke 
down.  With  amazement  the  handful  of  Union  sol- 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


69 


diers  gazed  at  bills,  piled  up  like  bales  of  cotton. 
Being  cold  and  cheerless,  the  Union  boys  pitched 
quoits  that  night  for  stakes  of  Confederate  money. 
They  played  for  $100,000  a  game — in  Confederate 
money.  The  next  morning,  one  soldier  boy  bought 
a  grey  mule  for  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  dollars, 
and  paid  another  $100,000  to  have  a  shoe  put  on. 
Meanwhile  these  soldiers,  rich  in  bales  of  money, 
were  hungry  and  cold  and  houseless.  One  never 
sees  a  youth  stretching  out  his  hand  toward  these 
midnight  pleasures,  and  taking  gluttony  and  drunk¬ 
enness  into  his  bosom,  without  saying,  “  Satan  is 
paying  another  boy  off  with  lying  money.” 

All  these  stock-jobbers,  industrial  deceivers  and 
men  who  degrade  their  fellows  are  being  deluded 
with  counterfeit  pleasures.  Meanwhile,  God  is  not 
mocked.  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that,  in  kind 
and  in  quality,  he  shall  reap.  For  men  cannot  es¬ 
cape  from  the  nature  of  things.  Law  entraps  the 
transgressor.  Conscience  and  memory  are  always 
with  the  wrong-doer.  God  also  encamps  on 
David’s  right  hand  and  on  his  left,  and  makes  his 
days  to  be  remorse,  and  his  nights  misery.  When 
Booth  assassinated  Lincoln,  he  locked  the  door  of 
the  box,  had  friends  in  the  alley,  a  horse  that  was 
saddled,  and  everything  sure.  Booth  had  guarded 
against  everything  excepting  God,  and  his  country’s 
flag.  So,  after  Booth  shot  the  President,  the  spur 
on  his  boot  became  entangled  in  the  crimson  bars 
of  the  flag  in  the  President’s  box,  throwing  the 
assassin  heavily  to  the  floor,  broke  his  ankle,  and 
the  flag  stained  with  our  father’s  blood,  brought 
the  assassin  down  and  set  him  front  to  front  with 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


70 

\ 

justice  and  penalty.  For  the  nature  of  things  is 
round  about  us,  and  there  is  no  escape  for  David 
in  the  olden  time,  or  for  any  transgressor  today. 

If  we  had  only  nature  and  law  and  science  and 
memory  and  conscience,  and  the  approaching  judg¬ 
ment  day,  we  should  be  of  all  men  most  miserable. 
But  when  Absalom  rebelled  against  David,  the 
father’s  heart  turned  in  love  toward  the  wicked  son. 
In  these  days,  when  we  are  recalling  everything 
that  had  to  do  with  Abraham  Lincoln,  let  me  re¬ 
mind  you  of  an  incident  in  his  life,  that  will  explain 
the  all-forgiving  love  of  God.  One  day  a  telegram 
reached  the  White  House,  saying  that  Lee  was 
about  to  surrender.  That  night  Lincoln  quietly  left 
Washington  and  made  his  way  to  the  front.  And 
when  the  surrender  came  and  the  rebellion  was 
over,  and  the  officers  were  planning  the  entrance  to 
Richmond,  Lincoln  waved  aside  all  suggestions  of 
a  triumphal  procession.  This  must  be  no  Roman 
conqueror,  moving  along  the  Appian  Way.  There 
must  be  no  chariots,  no  chargers,  no  bands  of 
music.  So,  alone  again,  Lincoln  entered  Rich¬ 
mond.  It  was  the  strangest  triumphal  entrance  in 
the  annals  of  time.  The  sunshine  fell  on  the 
Southern  capital,  but  Lincoln  seemed  very  tired  as 
he  started  up  the  street.  The  Southerners  had  no 
greeting,  their  curtains  were  down.  The  President 
was  alone.  Slowly  he  walked.  His  head  was  on 
his  breast.  He  seemed  very  sad.  His  steps  were 
heavy.  The  slaves  were  in  the  alleys  and  in  the 
side  streets,  and  they  wished  to  greet  him,  but  were 
afraid.  They  met  him  on  their  knees,  praying  and 
sobbing  and  singing,  but  in  low  tones.  On  and  on 


HOURS  WHEN  MEN  GO  DOWN 


71 


the  worn,  weary,  broken  President  walked  toward 
the  house  that  was  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy. 

When  he  entered  Davis’  room,  the  President 
waved  his  two  officers  back.  One  of  them,  after  a 
while,  not  understanding  the  silence,  looked  in. 
What  strange  victory  in  this  President!  What 
mystery  in  his  triumph!  Mr.  Lincoln’s  head  is 
down  on  Jefferson  Davis’  desk.  His  head  is  in  his 
hands.  The  President  is  sobbing — weeping  for  the 
desolation  of  his  beloved  South,  weeping  for 
Rachel  and  her  children,  and  he  cannot  be  com¬ 
forted,  weeping  for  the  brave  Southern  boys  who 
will  never  come  home,  and  perchance  whispering 
to  himself,  “  How  often  would  I  have  gathered 
thee  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings,  and  ye  would  not.”  We  were  not  enemies, 
we  were  friends,  but  lo,  ye  would  be  enemies.” 
And  because  this  weary,  broken  man  is  staggering 
under  his  weight,  and  cannot  be  comforted,  the 
great  God  took  him  home,  and  gathered  him  unto 
Himself,  where  the  day  dawned  and  the  shadows 
fled  away.  And  David  the  king,  going  up  toward 
his  palace,  sobs,  “  Oh,  Absalom,  my  son,  Absalom, 
my  son,  my  son !  Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee, 
oh,  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son !  ”  Lo,  we  are  Absa¬ 
lom,  and  this  is  the  King  of  Time  and  of  Eternity, 
abroad  in  the  night  on  His  mission  of  recovery,  to 
bring  us  in  out  of  the  far  off  frontier,  and  the 
battle  lines  of  sin,  to  heal  our  wounds,  to  forgive 
our  transgressions,  to  cleanse  away  our  iniquities. 


V 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 

“And,  behold,  a  woman  in  the  city,  which  was  a  sin¬ 
ner,  when  she  knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the  Phari¬ 
sees's  house,  brought  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment,  and 
stood  at  his  feet  behind  him,  weeping,  and  began  to 
wash  his  feet  with  tears,  and  did  wipe  them  with  the 
hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his  feet  and  anointed 
them  with  the  ointment.  .  .  .  And  he  said  to  the 
woman,  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee;  go  in  peace — Luke 
vii :  38,  39,  5°- 

AS  an  apology  for  the  slenderness  of  his  book 
of  reminiscences,  the  Beloved  Disciple,  with 
oriental  imagery,  said,  if  all  the  deeds  and 
words  of  Jesus  had  been  preserved  the  whole  world 
could  not  contain  the  books  that  would  be  written. 
John  means  that  if  one  sermon  on  the  Mount  was 
recorded,  hundreds  were  never  reported;  that  if  a 
few  brilliant  parables,  like  the  story  of  the  Lost 
Coin,  the  Lost  Sheep  and  the  Lost  Son,  were  writ¬ 
ten  out,  thousands  of  parables  existed  only  in  the 
memory  of  the  eager  hearers;  and  that  if  some 
wonder  deeds  of  mercy  were  described  in  the 
Memorabilia  of  the  Master,  that  other  thousands 
were  known  only  to  the  recipients  of  His  kindness. 
But  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise.  Consider 
the  fertility  of  the  intellect  of  Jesus !  His  mind 
blazed  like  a  star,  glowing  and  sparkling  with  ten 
thousand  brilliant  effects. 


72 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


73 


His  genius  was  a  rich  garden,  putting  forth  fruit 
and  flowers  in  every  nook  and  corner,  and  no  hand 
could  do  more  than  pluck  a  few  blossoms  here  and 
there.  In  August  the  whole  land  waves  with  leaves 
and  flowers  from  Maine  to  Oregon.  Then  winter 
comes,  invading  the  vineyards,  and  harvest  fields. 
Always  the  north  wind  leads  the  armies  of  destruc¬ 
tion.  Fierce  gales  flail  the  boughs  of  maple  and 
whip  the  branches,  and  the  leaves  fall  in  millions. 
When  December  comes  the  forests  are  bare  save 
where,  here  and  there,  the  oak  leaves  adhere  to  their 
boughs,  like  fragile  bronze.  Now  and  then  a  bot¬ 
anist,  chilled  by  the  snow,  refreshes  his  memory  by 
looking  at  the  leaves  he  pressed  and  the  flowers  he 
placed  between  the  pages  of  his  notebook,  but  it  is 
a  far  cry  from  a  pressed  violet  and  rose  to  June 
bloom  and  universal  summer.  These  slender  remi¬ 
niscences  of  Duke's  Master  represent  a  few  pressed 
flowers  plucked  in  the  garden  of  his  memory.  The 
hand  of  Luke  was  made  for  one  golden  bough  and 
not  for  all  beautiful  forests.  In  trying  to  interpret 
that  myriad-minded  Master  and  His  efflorescent 
genius,  we  must  pass  from  this  handful  of  inci¬ 
dents,  this  score  of  parables,  to  the  rich  gardens 
where  these  flowers  were  plucked  and  to  the  veins 
of  silver  and  of  gold  from  which  this  treasure  was 
taken  by  loving  hands.  The  artist  may  paint  a  few 
canvases,  but  no  painter  will  ever  be  a  historian  of 
the  full  summer.  The  limitations  of  the  human  in¬ 
tellect  make  it  certain  that  the  life  of  Christ  will 
never  be  written. 

Why,  then,  did  Luke  and  John  pass  by  ninety- 
nine  incidents,  and  record  this  particular  one  ? 


74 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


Man’s  first  duty  is  to  discover  himself,  who  he  is, 
where  he  came  from,  what  he  is  here  for  and 
whither  he  is  going.  But,  there  is  a  larger  task  and 
a  higher  knowledge.  “  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory 
in  his  wisdom,  nor  the  strong  man  in  his  strength, 
nor  the  rich  man  in  his  gold,  but  let  him  glory  in 
this,  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth  God.” 
That  which  storms  can  never  reveal,  that  which 
earthquakes  can  never  proclaim,  must  be  found  out 
by  the  soul.  Every  man  paints  his  own  portrait  of 
God,  but  the  heart  and  not  the  intellect  is  the  artist 
that  limns  the  canvas.  The  supreme  question  is, 
“  How  does  the  Unseen  Being  feel  toward  His 
children,  in  the  hour  of  their  sorrow,  suffering,  or 
moral  disaster?”  In  the  belief  that  what  Jesus 
was  during  three  years  in  Palestine,  the  all-helpful 
God  is  in  all  ages  and  lands,  the  biographers  of 
Jesus  selected  out  of  thousands  of  incidents  those 
episodes  that  would  portray  the  heart  of  God,  the 
gentleness  of  His  strength,  the  mercy  of  His  justice 
and  the  tenderness  of  His  verdict  upon  the  career 
of  His  children.  They  passed  by  the  omniscience 
of  God,  the  wisdom  of  Jesus,  His  regency  over 
physical  nature,  and  taking  men  at  the  point  where 
the  heart  is  broken  and  the  steps  have  wandered, 
they  set  forth  the  way  that  Jesus  bore  Himself 
toward  the  poor  pilgrims,  lying  like  bleeding  vines 
torn  from  the  wall,  like  the  snowdrops  and 
anemone,  trampled  into  the  ground,  by  the  feet  of 
the  multitude. 

It  is  not  an  accident,  therefore,  that  all  four  of 
the  biographers  of  Jesus  have  told  in  detail  the 
story  of  the  feast  in  the  home  of  Simon.  Luke 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


75 


alone  remembers  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son; 
Matthew  recalls  the  very  words  of  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount ;  Mark  remembers  the  last  charge  given 
the  disciples  on  Olivet,  before  the  Master  faded 
from  their  sight;  John  loves  to  linger  over  that 
meeting  in  the  upper  room,  when  the  world- 
untroubled  heart  released  all  troubled  ones  from 
trouble.  But  all  of  the  evangelists  recall  every 
detail  of  this  exquisite  incident  that  took  place 
at  the  banquet  in  the  house  of  that  rich  man  of 
Bethany. 

The  host,  one  may  justifiably  conjecture,  was  the 
leading  merchant  of  his  time.  His  caravans  were 
ever  on  the  road  between  Jerusalem  and  the  cities 
of  Egypt  on  the  south,  and  the  cities  that  clustered 
around  Damascus  upon  the  north.  Simon  dealt  in 
wheat,  and  wool,  and  silk,  in  oil  and  wine,  in  spices 
from  Arabia,  and  gold  from  Africa,  and  diamonds 
from  India,  and  daily  he  increased  in  treasure. 
Tiring  of  the  city,  with  its  din  and  tumult,  he  built 
a  rich  man’s  house  in  the  beautiful  suburb  of  Beth¬ 
any,  and  there  he  entertained  his  guests.  From 
time  to  time  every  great  city  welcomes  home  the 
returning  hero,  the  ruler  or  prince,  who  represents 
other  lands.  Little  by  little  that  first  citizen  of  the 
Hebrew  capital,  Simon,  came  to  be  looked  upon  as 
the  man  who  would  do  the  honours  for  his  fellow- 
men.  In  those  days  Jesus  was  the  popular  hero. 
Multitudes  pressed  and  thronged  to  hear  Him 
speak.  The  sheer  beauty  of  His  words  cast  a  spell 
upon  the  multitude.  He  wove  silken  threads  of 
truth,  and  bound  men  as  captives  to  His  chariot. 
In  Him,  the  poor  found  a  friend.  To  Him,  came 


76 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


the  downtrodden,  knowing  that  He  would  become 
a  voice  for  their  wrongs.  The  people  gave  Him 
their  hearts,  and  thousands  would  have  died  for 
their  Teacher.  And  when,  at  the  end  of  an  excited 
day,  tired  inside  and  tired  out,  Jesus  withdrew  to 
Bethany,  this  rich  man,  Simon,  with  his  servants, 
came  out  to  meet  and  greet  the  Master,  and  took 
Him,  as  it  were  by  force,  and  soon  servants  spread 
the  feast. 

When  the  news  ran  around,  that  the  great 
Teacher  was  at  the  rich  man's  house,  merchants 
closed  their  stores,  farmers  left  the  ploughs  in  the 
field,  women  and  children  hurried  to  join  the  multi¬ 
tudes  that  filled  Simon’s  house,  and  crowded  his 
gardens,  and  overflowed  into  the  street.  Great  is 
the  power  of  the  soldier!  Wonderful  the  influence 
of  the  victor  in  battles  upon  land  or  sea!  Most 
wonderful  the  power  of  the  statesman,  who  re¬ 
ceives  triumphal  processions,  after  some  victory 
over  oppression!  But  more  wonderful  still  the 
majesty  of  goodness,  the  might  of  love,  the  regency 
of  a  radiant  and  luminous  soul,  like  Jesus,  who,  all 
His  life  long  went  up  and  down  the  world  doing 
good  unto  His  fellows. 

The  beauty  of  this  incident  and  its  rich  mean¬ 
ings  can  only  be  understood  through  contrasts. 
Our  houses  have  doors  against  the  chill  and  rigour 
of  the  winter.  That  house  of  Simon’s  was  open 
and  built  for  sunshine  and  the  free  movement  of 
the  currents  of  air.  To  our  feasts  come  only  in¬ 
vited  guests;  ancient  feasts  were  public  functions, 
and  the  proof  that  the  host  was  poor  was  that  he 
limited  his  invitations,  and  the  proof  that  Simon 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


77 


was  rich  was  that  he  had  abundance  and  to  spare 
for  all  who  crossed  the  threshold  of  his  house.  In 
that  far-off  era,  also,  tables  were  unknown.  Guests 
reclined  upon  couches,  and  hours  were  spent  in 
consuming  an  unending  series  of  courses  of  rich 
foods.  When  the  crowd  was  densest  and  there  was 
scarcely  room  to  move,  and  guests  pushed  and 
thronged  one  against  another,  a  girl  who  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  child,  a  girl  with  a  lovely, 
flower- face,  but  with  robe  of  sackcloth,  suddenly 
dropped  upon  her  knees  and  put  her  arms  above  the 
feet  of  Jesus  and  bowed  her  head  and  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  A  great  silence  fell  upon  the  guests. 
Among  those  guests  were  men,  perchance,  who  had 
reason  to  know  that  lovely  girl.  Perhaps  one  of 
them  had  broken  down  all  the  hedges  that  protect 
the  sweet  flowers  of  the  heart  in  the  garden  of 
the  soul. 

Sometimes  the  garden  gate  is  left  open  by  the 
gardener  in  a  thoughtless  mood.  Then  enter  the 
swine,  and  with  tusk  and  snout  root  up  the  soil  and 
grass  and  crush  the  snowdrop  and  the  anemone  and 
pull  down  the  fragrant  vines  that  creep  over  win¬ 
dows  and  walls.  Soon  the  foul  beasts  finding  the 
bubbling  spring,  wallow  in  the  pure  water  and  turn 
it  into  mire.  They  find  a  garden,  they  leave  bleed¬ 
ing  vines  and  bruised  flowers.  This  girl  had  suf¬ 
fered  much  at  the  hands  of  evil  men,  who  had 
placed  in  her  hand  the  cup  of  flame,  and  with  lying 
pledges  lured  her  from  the  paths  of  peace  into 
tropic  jungles,  where  blooms  the  scarlet  upas  flow¬ 
ers,  flowers  growing  in  fetid  jungles,  where  death 
and  putrefaction  have  their  secret  lair.  But  now  at 


78 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


last  all  illusions  have  dissolved,  the  mirage  has 
faded,  the  wreaths  on  the  forehead  of  passion  have 
withered,  the  lights  have  burned  low  in  the  socket, 
the  night  has  fallen,  the  wind  is  chill,  the  storm 
clouds  thicken,  the  windows  begin  to  rattle,  the 
wind  sobs  and  sighs  in  the  chimney.  Voices  of 
remorse  threaten,  and  partly  in  a  mood  of  fear  and 
partly  in  shame,  but  most  of  all  through  sorrow 
and  repentance,  in  a  great,  wild  orgasm  of  confes¬ 
sion,  this  sweet  girl  comes  to  herself !  Her  tears 
fall  like  rain  upon  the  Master’s  feet. 

Oh,  these  blessed  tears!  Not  the  dewdrop  is  so 
pure !  This  child  feared  lest  her  tears  scald  His 
person,  and  loosing  her  hair  she  made  a  veil  behind 
which  she  could  hide  her  face,  and  with  the  long 
tresses  she  wiped  His  feet,  and  took  that  sweet 
ointment,  very  precious,  used  only  for  great  occa¬ 
sions,  and  broke  the  treasure-box  for  the  Master. 
Sometimes  men  sweep  a  half-acre  of  red  roses  into 
one  little  vial,  filled  with  their  precious  attar;  and 
in  those  far-off  days,  experts  distilled  certain  pre¬ 
cious  perfumes,  and  breaking  not  only  the  outer 
alabaster  box,  but  that  secret  box  of  love,  she 
poured  out  all  the  wealth  of  her  soul  upon  the 
Master. 

Be  it  remembered  that  in  that  era  the  debtor,  in 
asking  mercy  from  his  creditor,  bowed  at  the  feet 
of  his  benefactor;  that  the  slave  and  disciple  knelt 
at  the  foot  of  the  master’s  couch  and  in  embracing 
the  feet  surrendered  the  very  life  in  devotion  to  the 
lord  of  the  life.  And  in  fulfillment  of  one  of  the 
customs  understood  by  all  those  guests,  this  woman 
surrendered  herself  and  by  the  symbolic  act  made 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


79 


herself  for  evermore  the  slave  to  flawless  purity 
and  perfect  justice  and  the  divine  love  of  the  Mas¬ 
ter.  It  is  only  when  we  study  the  scenes  and  the 
unfolding  chapters  in  the  life  of  this  young  girl 
that  we  understand  the  exquisite  beauty  of  an  act 
that  has  made  immortal  the  doer.  We  know  not 
her  name,  we  cannot  measure  the  wealth  of  her 
love;  the  act  without  represented  the  sentiment  of 
the  soul  within,  but  unconsciously  she  has  built  a 
monument  more  enduring  than  marble  or  bronze. 
Her  life  opened  with  a  tender  pastoral  scene  that 
we  can  reproduce  even  as  an  expert  can  replace  the 
amethyst  torn  from  its  matrix  and  original  setting. 
One  night  her  father  returned  from  the  city  to  his 
home  in  the  country.  His  daughter,  wearing  a 
simple  white  dress,  with  one  flower  at  her  throat, 
met  him  at  the  garden  gate  and  clasped  both  hands 
about  his  arm.  She  took  him  through  the  flower 
beds,  not  knowing  that  she  herself  was  the  sweetest 
flower  that  had  bloomed  under  that  sun.  What 
anemones  midst  the  grass !  What  violets  hidden 
under  the  leaves !  There  also  were  orange  blossoms 
and  on  the  same  boughs  the  ripened  fruit.  And 
there  with  her  own  hands  she  had  fastened  the 
honeysuckle  vine  above  the  door  and  made  the  en¬ 
trance  to  the  house  to  be  drenched  with  fragrance. 
She  had  spread  the  simple  meal  in  a  little  summer¬ 
house,  and  upon  the  white  cloth  she  had  placed  the 
cold  water  from  the  spring.  Then  she  lifted  the 
leaves  and  showed  him  the  strawberries  she  had 
just  plucked  and  the  thick  cream  all  waiting,  and 
the  wheaten  loaf,  and  trying  to  make  him  forget 
the  toil  of  the  day  she  drew  him  to  his  chair  and 


80 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


put  one  arm  around  his  shoulder  and  laid  her  face 
against  his  bronzed  cheek  and  whispered,  “  Oh, 
father,  I  am  so  happy!  ”  And  crushing  the  sweet 
child  to  his  breast  the  proud  father  forgot  his  tire 
and  felt  himself  to  be  a  king,  and  for  one  brief 
moment  forgot  his  loneliness  for  her  mother,  so 
long  since  passed  away.  Wearing  the  child  like  a 
rose  upon  his  heart,  he  bore  himself  like  a  king  and 
walked  the  earth,  a  monarch  among  those  who 
served. 

Then  came  dark  days.  A  serpent  entered  that 
garden.  Mephistopheles  conspired  against  young 
Marguerite.  With  fiendish  skill  he  sought  to  break 
down  the  hedge,  and  destroy  the  buttresses  that 
protect  virtue.  Then  came  a  tragedy,  oh,  how 
black !  It  was  the  season  for  the  games  and  sports, 
and  races  of  an  age  all  too  vulgar.  All  streets  were 
thronged,  and  all  race-tracks.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  dust  of  chariots,  and  runners  and  horse¬ 
men.  Vendors  of  their  wares  lifted  up  shrill 
voices,  and  cried  aloud.  And  moving  slowly 
through  the  scene  went  the  Master  and  Lord  of 
life.  At  last  the  Carpenter  stayed  His  steps  before 
a  house  of  pleasure.  Around  one  banqueting  table 
sat  a  company  of  wild  and  reckless  young  men  and 
women.  And  lo!  The  central  figure,  toward 
whose  face  all  these  half-drunken  young  men 
leaned,  and  to  whom  they  stretched  out  the  ripened 
grapes,  the  fresh  figs,  the  fragrant  sweetmeats, 
stands — that  of  the  young  girl  of  the  garden,  but 
with  face,  oh,  how  changed!  And  even  as  Jesus 
stays  His  steps  beside  that  table  she  rises  in  her 
place,  to  drink  a  health,  and  drunken  boys  empty 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


81 


beakers  into  her  overflowing  glass,  and  the  purple 
flood  runs  down  and  stains  the  cloth.  Stopping 
before  that  table  Jesus  looked  straight  into  the 
girl's  eyes.  Oh,  those  all-seeing  eyes  of  Jesus! 
Eyes  that  knew  all,  understood  all,  and  pitied  all! 
No  swords  were  in  those  eyes.  No  sparks  of  fire 
leaped  forth.  No  arm  was  lifted  to  smite,  but 
Jesus  stood  there,  a  great,  dear  presence,  with  re¬ 
buke  of  love  and  pain  and  disappointment !  The 
girl  stood  transfixed,  her  lips  parted,  in  wonder  she 
stretched  out  that  little,  right  hand,  holding  that 
enpurpled  cup  as  if  to  ask,  “  Who  art  thou?” 
Astounded,  the  revelers  rise  slowly  to  their  feet. 
In  astonishment  they  gaze  first  at  the  queen  of  the 
feast,  and  then  at  the  strange  Teacher,  while  they 
ask  what  these  things  may  mean.  Suddenly,  she 
drops  the  goblet  that,  falling,  breaks  upon  the  table. 
She  lifts  her  hands  and  tears  away  the  scarlet  flow¬ 
ers  twisted  in  her  hair.  She  strips  the  pearls  from 
her  throat  and  flings  them  upon  the  stones  beneath. 
Still  looking  into  the  Master’s  eyes,  she  pulls  off 
the  rings  and  jeweled  bracelets,  and  when  the  Mas¬ 
ter  turns  and  covers  His  face  with  His  hand  be¬ 
cause  the  pain  of  it  was  more  than  He  could  bear, 
she  breathes  forth  one  sobbing  moan  like  a  young 
and  wounded  thing,  and  sinks  unconscious  in  the 
chair,  as  the  shadows  and  dark  night  close  around 
and  veil  the  scene  ! 

And  now,  we  behold  another  scene.  Once  more 
that  young  girl  is  back  in  her  father’s  garden.  The 
silent  looks  of  that  great  Teacher  had  dissolved  all 
the  illusions  of  pleasure  and  sin.  What  had  seemed 
ambrosia  became  the  apples  of  Sodom,  filled  with 


82 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


ashes  and  soot.  What  once  was  the  wine  of 
Bacchus  and  the  nectar  of  Venus,  became  as  the 
droppings  of  asps  and  the  poison  of  serpents. 
Those  scarlet  flowers  that  her  lover  had  twisted 
into  a  wreath  became  like  coals  of  fire,  blistering 
her  forehead.  In  her  long  pursuit  of  the  god  of 
pleasure,  suddenly,  that  whom  she  had  pursued 
turned,  and  instead  of  the  face  of  some  ideal  youth 
she  found  she  had  embraced  a  toothless  hag,  and 
she  shrieked  aloud.  In  her  black  despair,  she  re¬ 
turned  to  the  home,  knowing  she  would  find  it 
empty  because  her  sin  had  slain  her  father,  and  lo, 
the  garden  of  her  youth  had  come  up  to  weeds,  as 
toads  and  lizards  ran  across  the  garden  walks. 
Fallen  the  vines  from  the  bare  windows !  Gone  all 
the  sweet  flowers!  Rain  had  come  through  the 
roof.  Mould  was  upon  the  walls.  In  an  abandon  of 
grief,  she  flung  her  face  upon  the  garden  grass  and 
with  dry  sobs,  her  little  fingers  clutched  the  earth, 
while  she  called  on  death.  Soon  she  plucked  away 
each  soft  garment  and  in  an  old  closet  found  sack¬ 
cloth  and  black,  and  she  hid  herself  until  the  night 
fell.  Then,  standing  in  the  shadows,  she  stood  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  multitude,  and  listened  to  that 
strange  Teacher,  and  once  she  drew  nearer,  and 
despite  her  veil  found  that  the  Master  had  recog¬ 
nised  her.  Suddenly,  He  lifted  His  hand  and,  look¬ 
ing  straight  over  the  heads  of  other  hearers  to  that 
place  where  she  stood,  He  sent  across  the  space  one 
word  for  her  heart  alone :  “  I  am  come  to  seek  and 
save  that  which  is  lost.”  Some  inner  voice  whis¬ 
pered  :  “  He  speaks  to  you.” 

No  mariner  on  a  dark  and  stormy  night,  upon  a 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


83 


dangerous  coast  ever  longed  for  the  lighthouse  that 
should  lead  into  the  harbour  as  that  young  girl  had 
longed  for  the  light,  and  now  it  had  flamed  forth. 
At  last,  the  light  had  come !  Shaken  with  joy, 
while  hope  and  fear  wrestled  in  her  heart,  she 
turned  and  fled  back  to  that  deserted  garden,  but  all 
night  long,  and  all  the  next  day  the  bells  of  hope 
kept  ringing,  and  in  her  dreams  she  found  herself 
again  tossed  in  the  dark  upon  the  yeasty  sea,  and 
ever  across  the  flood  came  that  sweet  and  mellow 
bell,  “  I  am  come  to  seek  and  save  that  which  is 
lost,”  and  when  she  wakened  it  was  as  if  a  night  of 
storm,  with  hissing  winds  and  trembling  earth,  and 
sheeted  flames  and  forked  lightning  had  all  passed, 
and  left  the  flowers  safe,  and  the  garden  sweet,  and 
lo,  the  birds  were  singing  again  in  the  branches  as 
a  great  peace  stole  into  her  heart. 

When  the  night  fell,  with  transports  of  joy,  she 
heard  that  the  Master  was  at  the  house  of  the  rich 
merchant,  Simon,  and  entering  with  the  great 
throng,  and  concealing  her  face  behind  her  robe, 
she  suddenly  finds  herself  beside  His  couch.  Love 
always  finds  a  way.  The  heart  needs  no  guide  and 
no  protector.  One  look  into  His  face  told  her 
heart  that  she  had  not  deceived  herself.  What 
wonder  words  were  those  she  heard?  What  did 
this  mean  that  the  Master  should  have  asked  Simon 
about  the  two  creditors,  and  now,  when  the  man 
who  owed  a  vast  debt,  and  the  man  whose  debt  was 
a  trifle  alike  could  pay  nothing,  that  the  creditor 
freely  forgave  them  both?  And  what  did  this 
silence  mean  that  fell  upon  the  other  guests  at  the 
question  as  to  which  debtor  loved  the  benefactor 


84 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


most  ?  And  then  came  the  answer,  “  I  suppose  that 
he  loved  most  to  whom  most  was  forgiven.”  And 
in  that  moment  she  bowed  her  head  and  in  a  trans¬ 
port  of  joy  she  wept  aloud  as  she  heard  the  words 
“  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee.  Go  in  peace.” 
Wheresoever  this  story  shall  be  told,  it  shall  be  a 
monument  to  her.  Since  that  far-off  time  centuries 
have  come  and  gone,  but  the  story  comes  like  a 
strain  of  sweet  music  sounding  down  the  long 
aisles  of  time,  and  the  fragrance  of  that  box  of 
ointment  lingers  and  now  perfumes  all  literature 
and  lends  sweetness  to  the  wide-lying  world. 

The  lessons  of  this  exquisite  scene  in  the  life  of 
the  Redeemer,  are  like  flowers  waiting  to  be 
plucked  in  God’s  rich  garden.  How  plain  it  is  that 
there  are  unrevealed  treasures  hidden  under  all  the 
wreck  of  sin  and  shame.  History  tells  us  that  the 
fire  that  followed  the  earthquake  in  Athens,  re¬ 
vealed,  when  the  ashes  were  carried  away,  unsus¬ 
pected  veins  of  silver.  But  what  hidden  gold  in 
every  heart?  In  God’s  sight  all  men  go  forward, 
big  with  latent  treasures.  It  is  as  if  the  farmer 
valued  the  field  for  its  vegetables  and  grain,  because 
his  is  a  surface  view.  It  is  as  if  Simon  had  looked 
upon  this  sinning  woman’s  life  as  upon  a  garden 
filled  with  weeds,  thorns  and  thistles,  while  the 
Lord  of  the  garden,  with  all-seeing  eye,  pierced 
through  the  crust  and  saw  beneath  the  soil  with  its 
mire-hidden  veins  of  gold  and  crystals  waiting  to 
be  cut  into  diamonds — as  if  all  flashing  rubies  and 
sapphires  were  waiting  to  be  uncovered. 

Nor  must  we  forget  that  other  lesson,  the  judg¬ 
ment  of  perfect  goodness  upon  the  sins  of  the 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


85 


human  heart,  and  the  mercy  of  God’s  justice  in 
whispering  His  verdict  upon  the  deeds  of  the  soul. 
Too  often  we  have  closed  this  revelation  of  the 
heart  of  God  to  open  the  Bible  to  statements  about 
the  wrath  of  an  avenging  law-giver.  Philosophers 
have  invoked  the  support  of  isolated  texts,  “  Our 
God  is  a  consuming  fire,”  “  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
the  beginning  of  wisdom,”  and  so  forth,  forgetting 
that  Jesus  bore  Himself  in  such  a  way  as  to  reveal 
how  God  feels  toward  all  erring  ones  who  have 
left  the  paths  of  truth  and  virtue.  As  men  go 
toward  genius  and  greatness  and  the  uttermost  of 
holiness,  they  go  toward  gentleness  in  judgment. 
The  Master  and  Lord  of  life,  with  His  stainless 
perfection,  was  very  pitiful.  Sinful  men  would 
have  fain  stoned  this  girl.  Perfect  love,  with  in¬ 
stant  pity,  forgave  her.  Nor  would  He  even  permit 
her  to  tell  her  story.  “  Daughter  ” — ah,  what  a 
word  was  that!  How  long  had  she  waited  for 
someone  to  say  the  word  that  used  often  to  fall 
from  the  lips  of  her  revered  father,  long  since  dead. 
And  now,  that  home  word,  “  Daughter,”  that 
bosom  pressure  word,  “  My  child,”  had  fallen  from 
the  lips  of  the  greatest  among  the  holy,  and  the 
purest  among  the  great.  It  was  like  water  to  a 
dying  wanderer,  perishing  of  thirst  in  the  desert. 
It  was  like  music  falling  from  the  battlements  of 
Heaven.  What  wonder  words  were  these  that  fell 
upon  her  bleeding  and  broken  heart ;  “  Thy  sins  are 
forgiven  thee,  go  in  peace.”  In  that  moment,  the 
flare  of  lightning  passed  away,  the  black  cloud  on 
the  horizon  dissolved,  the  last  echo  of  the  midnight 
storm  and  tornado  ceased  to  exist,  the  sun  shone 


86 


THE  BLEEDING  VINE 


forth  and  in  her  vision  she  saw  her  father  and 
mother  coming  across  the  grass  in  the  souls’  sum- 
merland,  to  take  her  into  their  arms  and  whisper 
welcome  and  lead  her  up  unto  the  throne  of 
mercy,  not  marble,  the  throne  of  love,  and  not  a 
law.  And  when  the  Master  spoke  the  word  “  For¬ 
given  ”  every  wound  was  healed,  as  she  entered 
her  Paradise,  and  her  hot  desert  became  an  Eden 
garden. 


VI 

SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


“  And  they  were  offended  at  him/' — Mark  vi:3. 


IN  that  far-off  era,  when  certain  leaders  were 
offended  by  Jesus,  there  were  many  forms  of 
pride  and  shame.  Most  beautiful  were  some 
of  their  cities,  and  there  must  have  been  a  Theban 
pride,  a  Roman  pride,  and  an  Ephesian  pride. 
Revolting,  too,  the  ugliness  and  squalor  of  many 
regions,  and  men  must  have  been  ashamed  of  the 
slave  and  the  gladiator,  of  rags  and  crusts,  of  the 
gibbet  and  the  scourge  and  the  dungeon.  And 
some  men  there  were  who  listened  to  the  teachings 
of  Jesus,  and  were  offended  by  His  plain  speech. 
The  rulers  of  the  city  were  men  of  vast  property, 
and  old  family  memories,  while  Jesus  was  a  peasant 
—and  they  were  offended  by  Him.  The  scribes 
were  men  of  culture  and  training,  and  Jesus  was 
an  untaught  carpenter,  and  these  were  offended. 
The  chief  priests  were  at  the  head  of  the  Estab¬ 
lished  Church,  with  its  splendid  temple,  its  historic 
ritual,  and  gorgeous  vestments  and  clouds  of  in¬ 
cense,  while  Jesus  was  a  carpenter,  teaching  the 
people  up  on  the  hillside,  and  these  men,  also,  were 
offended  by  Him. 

The  region  of  Galilee  held  many  Grecian  towns 
and  illustrated  Grecian  art,  Grecian  culture  and 

87 


88 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


literature,  and  these  Greeks  were  offended  with 
Jesus.  At  last  public  sentiment  organised  itself, 
and  a  mob  went  forth  with  stones  to  wreak  its 
fury  on  the  carpenter’s  son  and  brought  Him  to 
His  death.  And  the  story  of  His  ignominy  and 
shame  shocked  the  proud  Roman  soldier,  and  the 
imperious  merchant  from  Greece.  The  Jew,  be¬ 
cause  he  was  a  Jew,  was  a  thorn  rankling  in  the 
side  of  the  nations  of  that  era.  And  when  this 
Nazarene  teacher  outlined  a  universal  religion,  a 
world-wide  sway  and  a  golden  age,  when  His 
teachings  should  be  supreme,  men  were  offended. 
Little  by  little  these  feelings  of  resentment  gath¬ 
ered  depth,  power  and  momentum.  Piling  up  like 
waters  behind  the  dam,  at  last  the  floods  of  indig¬ 
nation  swept  away  all  barriers,  and  the  Galilsean 
teacher  was  overwhelmed  with  death,  through 
earth’s  most  piteous  tragedy.  So  odious  was  the 
Cross  that  the  very  manner  of  His  dying  became 
an  offense,  and  the  multitudes  melted  away.  Their 
enthusiasm  concerning  Him  disappeared  like  dew 
on  the  grass.  His  cause  was  a  lost  cause,  and  His 
star  sunk  in  a  disaster  that  seemed  irretrievable 
and  forever. 

Lo,  today,  all  has  changed!  Time  has  lent  rich 
associations  to  a  name  that  once  was  poor  and 
scant.  Looking  backward,  we  behold  Jesus 
through  an  atmosphere  roseate  and  golden,  through 
glorious  associations !  History  has  become  a  kind 
of  long  cathedral  aisle,  crowded  with  splendid  tab¬ 
lets  and  memorials  of  the  Master.  Slowly  all  that 
is  most  glorious  in  art,  architecture  and  philan¬ 
thropy  has  united  to  lend  beauty  to  this  sublime 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


89 


Name.  For  thoughtful  men,  shame  toward  Jesus 
has  become  unthinkable.  Shame  is  a  downward¬ 
looking  quality.  Men  are  ashamed  toward  drunk¬ 
enness  and  gluttony,  toward  rags  and  vice  and 
crime,  toward  the  poor-house  and  the  jail.  Pride 
is  an  upward-looking  quality ;  men  are  proud 
toward  the  cathedral,  and  the  palace  and  the 
library,  toward  eminence,  influence  and  immortal 
fame.  In  contrast  with  other  great  names,  Jesus 
has  become  the  central  figure  in  history.  Offense 
now  seems  impossible.  How  glorious  His  teach¬ 
ings!  How  winsome  and  alluring  His  gentle  life! 
Innumerable  reforms  have  sprung  from  His  kind¬ 
ness  toward  children,  outcasts  and  the  broken¬ 
hearted  poor. 

No  hand  can  be  found  willing  to  tarnish  Christ’s 
portrait.  Today  not  a  tongue  is  foul  enough  to 
speak  evil  of  His  character  and  career.  His  music 
seems  world  music,  that  pierces  all  hearts  with  its 
sweetness.  His  influence  has  become  a  contagion — 
a  contagion  of  happiness  and  beauty  and  help'. 
Whatsoever  makes  for  greatness  stirs  longing  and 
delight.  Under  that  influence,  as  travellers,  we 
make  long  pilgrimages  to  the  little  house  where  the 
great  poet  was  born,  to  the  room  where  the  drama¬ 
tist  penned  his  greatest  page.  We  uncover  under 
the  sublime  dome  that  an  architect’s  hand  hath 
lifted.  Collectors  pay  fortunes  vying  with  one 
another  for  the  possession  of  the  sword  of  some 
soldier,  a  missal  by  some  old  master,  a  manuscript 
by  some  great  author.  From  these  relics  of  genius 
the  possessor  borrows  a  reflected  light  and  glory. 
But  he  who  associates  his  name  with  the  name  of 


90 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


Jesus  stands  in  a  blaze  of  effulgent  light,  light  intel¬ 
lectual,  light  pure  and  spiritual;  a  light  and  beauty 
that  can  never  wane.  And  these  affiliations  of 
Christianity,  and  the  achievements  of  Jesus  are 
calculated  to  evoke  only  pride  and  admiration  in 
devoted  and  lofty  souls. 

But  despite  all  the  associations  of  history,  let  us 
confess  that  today  some  are  offended,  and  have 
gone  away  from  Christ  and  His  Church.  They 
concede  the  beauty  of  Christ’s  character,  they  are 
conscious  of  His  increasing  world  influence,  they 
are  in  sympathy  with  the  objects  for  which  His 
followers  are  toiling,  but  they  deny  the  necessity 
of  any  open  alliance  with  His  cause.  It  is  said  by 
many  that  those  within  the  Church  are  no  better 
than  those  without  it.  The  critic  exclaims,  “  I 
would  put  my  life  as  an  outsider  against  that  man’s 
life  as  an  insider;  my  honesty  against  his  honesty; 
my  business  career  against  his  business  career.” 
But  we  concede  at  the  outset  that  now  and  then  a 
man  outside  of  the  Church,  by  virtue  of  his  birth- 
gifts,  is  equal  to  or  even  superior  to  some  men’s 
achievements,  even  with  all  the  help  of  the  Church 
— on  the  inside.  But  this  argues  nothing  save  the 
superiority  of  the  native  gifts  of  the  one  man  who 
received  much,  and  was  made  self-sufficing  by  God 
and  His  fathers  while  the  other  man  received  little, 
and  needs  every  possible  form  of  help. 

We  confess  that  Abraham  Lincoln,  never  having 
been  in  college,  can  write  better  English  than 
Edward  Everett,  president  of  Harvard  University. 
Does  that  justify  you  in  railing  at  colleges,  and 
refusing  assistance  to  them?  John  Bunyan  wrote 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


91 


the  second  book  in  English  literature.  Ought  we 
therefore  to  refuse  support  to  Oxford  and  Cam¬ 
bridge?  Some  self-made  men  there  are  of  gifts  so 
unique  that  they  can  succeed  without  any  external 
helps  and  appliances,  but  perhaps  they  would  have 
achieved  more  signal  success  with  them.  The 
Church  is  a  means  to  an  end,  and  does  not  exist 
for  its  own  sake.  The  Church  is  a  college  in 
morals,  a  university  of  right  living,  a  culture-room 
where  the  laws  of  life  are  studied  and  practised.  It 
is  a  school  to  which  men  are  admitted  because  they 
are  ignorant,  and  want  to  become  wise,  who  are 
weak  and  want  to  become  strong,  who  are  bad  and 
want  to  become  good.  A  church  is  like  the  steps 
leading  into  a  beautiful  mansion,  but  you  do  not 
sit  down  on  the  steps,  you  do  not  set  up  a  tent  on 
the  steps,  you  do  not  live  on  the  steps — the  steps 
lift  you  to  the  level  of  the  warm  room,  the  blazing 
winter's  fire,  the  bower  of  home  that  receives  you 
out  of  the  driving  rain  or  pelting  snow.  All  the 
ordinances  of  the  Church  are  steps  that  lead  to  the 
house  of  character,  adorned  with  all  those  rich 
treasures,  named  truth,  gentleness,  meekness  and 
justice  and  sympathy.  The  Church  is  a  hostelry  in 
which  man  stops  for  a  night  on  his  journey  home. 
The  end  of  the  Church  is  character,  likeness  to 
Christ,  automatic  goodness  and  solid  weight  of 
character. 

Some  men  of  high  ideals  are  offended  by  the 
mistakes  and  sins  of  those  within  the  Church,  just 
as  once  men  were  offended  at  Peter's  denial,  and 
Judas’  treason,  and  John’s  cowardice,  and  Saul’s 
cruelty.  Now,  we  hold  no  brief  to  defend  every 


92 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


man  who  has  joined  the  Church.  We  only  ask 
whether,  in  fair  play,  it  is  in  order  to  rail  at  an 
institution  because  of  the  blunders  of  some  identi¬ 
fied  therewith?  Of  course,  there  are  men  in 
churches  who  stumble  and  fall  prostrate.  Of 
course,  also,  there  are  bankers  and  cashiers  who 
have  stumbled,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  them, 
possibly,  last  year,  made  their  way  to  Mexico  or 
Africa.  There  are  jurists  who  are  tempted  and 
fall;  there  are  more  than  a  hundred  lawyers  who 
are  now  living  at  state  expense  in  Sing  Sing. 
There  are  merchants  who  crowd  their  shelves  with 
empty  pasteboard  boxes,  and  then  have  a  fire.  Do 
you  feel  it  is  necessary  to  withdraw  from  business 
because  these  dishonest  men  are  in  it?  Suppose 
the  youth  should  refuse  marriage  and  the  obliga¬ 
tions  of  husband  and  father  because  some  men  and 
women  quarrel  in  the  home? 

There  are  orchards  that  are  worthless  through 
neglect.  In  New  England  stands  an  orchard  that 
at  one  time  was  one  tangle  of  thickets.  For  years 
no  pruner’s  knife  had  been  lifted  upon  the  bough. 
The  splendid  trees  had  been  permitted  to  run  to 
branch,  until  the  woody  fibre  drank  up  all  the  sub¬ 
stance  and  left  nothing  for  the  fruit.  The  boughs 
were  one  teeming,  putrescent  mass  of  caterpillars’ 
nests;  rabbits  had  gnawed  at  the  bark,  and  moles 
had  cut  the  roots,  and  every  crack  and  seam  was 
filled  with  parasites  that  sapped  away  the  trees’ 
life.  Neglect  had  ruined  the  noble  orchard.  Cruel 
enemies  had  stripped  it  of  its  power.  The  sun 
shone  only  upon  small,  gnarled,  bitter  fruit,  that 
might  have  been  rich  as  the  apples  of  Paradise. 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


93 


Outside,  in  the  lane,  however,  grew  one  young 
apple  tree.  From  its  smooth  boughs  schoolboys 
shook  a  little  fruit.  But  did  that  little  tree  in  the 
lane,  that  happened  to  be  well-born  and  surrounded 
with  sunshine,  prove  that  orchards  are  a  failure? 
It  was  not  the  orchard  that  failed — it  was  a  lazy 
husbandman  failed,  a  careless,  drunken  farmer 
failed,  a  man  failed,  but  not  the  orchard  principle. 
And  the  Church  is  a  kind  of  vineyard  and  orchard, 
established  by  the  Divine  Husbandman,  as  a 
method  of  soul  culture.  Character  is  a  fruit  that  is 
ripened  by  daily  toil  and  unremitting  care.  Indus¬ 
try  must  lift  the  spade,  prudence  must  guard 
against  unseen  enemies,  prayer  must  call  down  rain 
and  dew  from  heaven ;  the  soul  must  have  the  sum¬ 
mer  atmosphere.  These  rich  fruits  do  not  come  by 
chance.  Character  is  an  achievement,  and  the 
Church  is  an  orchard  Eden,  for  those  who  com¬ 
mune  with  God,  under  the  boughs  of  the  trees. 

Others  there  are  who  have  accepted  the  philos¬ 
ophy  of  Rousseau.  They  wish  to  cast  the  reins 
loose  upon  the  neck  of  passion,  and  permit  their 
appetites  to  carry  them  whithersoever  they  will. 
“  I  want  to  be  free,  to  lead  my  own  life  in  my  own 
way.”  They  say,  the  real  life  is  the  untrammelled 
life — the  bird  life,  the  wild  horse  life,  that  never 
takes  on  the  yoke,  or  feels  the  rein,  or  endures  the 
scourge.  They  talk  about  the  return  to  Nature, 
and  point  to  the  Bohemian  career.  But  stop  and 
reflect.  Consider  that  no  man  ever  added  to  his 
obligations  to  gravity  by  acknowledging  gravity, 
or  escaped  the  law  of  gravity  by  refusing  obedience 
thereto.  Natural  laws  do  not  ask  whether  or  not 


94 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


we  give  allegiance  to  them.  Duty  is  something  that 
must  be  done.  No  man  increases  his  obligations  by 
joining  a  church,  and  no  man  lessens  his  obligations 
by  refusing  that  allegiance.  We  owe  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  God,  not  because  we  are  church  mem¬ 
bers,  but  because  we  are  men.  All  who  are  born 
into  a  cradle  and  die  into  a  grave  are  in  God’s  great 
world,  under  the  sway  of  His  laws,  open  to  His 
rewards  incident  to  obedience,  and  subject  to  the 
penalties  of  disobedience  and  sin.  Here  is  a  boy 
who  enters  the  bank.  When  his  employer  finds 
his  column  of  figures  full  of  mistakes,  the  boy 
becomes  angry,  saying :  “  I  never  went  to  school 
and  promised  to  obey  the  laws  of  the  multiplication 
table.  I  am  an  outsider.  I  don’t  propose  to  lose 
my  liberty  by  promising  to  keep  the  laws  of 
mathematics.” 

Here  is  some  lover  who  sends  a  letter  to  one 
who  scorns  the  words  that  are  misspelled,  and 
laughs  at  the  writer’s  poor  rhetoric.  But  the  youth 
answers :  “  I  refuse  to  join  the  school.  I  never 
stood  up  in  the  class-room  and  promised  to  obey 
the  laws  of  spelling  and  orderly  thinking.”  And 
here  is  the  young  glutton,  or  drunkard,  or  disciple 
of  pleasure,  saying,  when  disease  racks  him,  and 
pains  overtake  him :  “  I  never  promised  to  obey 
the  laws  of  temperance,  and  prudence,  and  of 
God.”  Well,  Nature  is  a  very  severe  teacher,  and 
a  stern  judge.  Whether  you  promise  to  obey  the 
laws  of  God  or  not,  Nature  will  deal  out  her  judg¬ 
ments  impartially.  You  escape  no  law  by  refusing 
obedience;  you  escape  no  duty  by  remaining  with¬ 
out  the  Church;  you  cannot  escape  from  God’s 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED  95 

world  until  you  can  lift  yourself  out  of  the  all- 
encompassing  air.  There  is  no  land  to  which  you 
can  flee,  that  you  may  have  license  to  be  lawless. 
Freedom  comes  through  obedience  to  law.  Happi¬ 
ness  follows  the  surrender  of  the  will  unto  God. 
The  path  of  duty  is  the  path  to  glory  without  and 
to  peace  within.  Remember  that  every  man  with¬ 
out  the  Church  is  under  every  obligation  of  the 
man  within  the  Church;  for  duty  is  not  binding 
upon  us  as  churchmen;  duty  is  binding  upon  us 
because  we  are  in  God’s  world,  supported  by  His 
bounty,  and  under  the  obligations  incident  to  His 
mercy  and  His  love. 

Some  there  are  who  are  offended  by  Christ’s 
words,  “  He  that  saveth  his  life  shall  lose  it;  he 
who  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  Me  is  not 
worthy  of  Me.”  They  interpret  these  words  to 
mean  asceticism,  the  denial  of  pleasure,  and  the  re¬ 
fusal  of  every  cup  of  honied  delight.  To  be  a 
Christian  for  them  is  to  wear  sackcloth,  enter  a 
lifelong  retreat;  to  refuse  the  ear  music,  and  the 
eye  beauty;  to  deny  the  heart  friendship;  to  turn 
one’s  face  toward  a  desert  of  waste  and  desolation 
and  monotony.  They  think  of  the  proverb  that 
Jesus  was  often  seen  to  weep,  but  never  known  tO' 
laugh — a  grievous  misstatement  and  perversion  of 
facts.  How  could  Jesus  have  been  other  than  the 
happiest  of  men?  What  joy  pervades  a  great 
Teacher’s  heart?  What  delight  comes  to  him  who, 
entering  the  garret,  can,  through  his  gold  become 
bread  to  the  hungry,  and  warmth  to  the  naked,  and 
medicine  to  the  sick?  When  the  peasants  deliv¬ 
ered  by  Garibaldi  fell  upon  their  knees  and  kissed 


96 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


his  hands,  do  you  think  their  emancipator  felt  no 
happiness?  Jesus  passed  through  the  world  like  a 
prince,  scattering  treasure  on  every  hand.  He 
healed  the  sick,  delivered  the  prisoners,  comforted 
the  hopeless,  blessed  the  children,  lifted  up  the  fal¬ 
len,  gave  life  to  the  dying.  And  oh,  what  happi¬ 
ness  came  into  His  heart,  with  all  the  might  of  a 
rushing  storm,  with  the  richness  of  the  summer’s 
wind!  Jesus  knew  the  joy  of  living,  the  passion 
of  happiness,  the  rage  of  life.  For  us,  happiness 
is  a  little  rivulet,  covering  the  feet;  for  Jesus,  joy 
was  a  river  deep  enough  to  swim  in,  an  ocean  in 
whose  depths  He  bathed  Plis  soul.  And  for  the 
children  of  God  all  good  things  exist — all  the 
sweetness  of  music,  the  beauty  of  art,  the  gran¬ 
deur  of  architecture,  the  majesty  of  the  summers 
and  the  sanctity  of  the  winters;  all  the  treasures 
of  literature  and  art  and  friendship;  all  the  riches 
of  the  waters  under  the  earth;  all  these  are  yours 
because  “  ye  are  Christ’s  and  Christ  is  God’s.” 

Of  course  the  lower  pleasures  are  not  yours,  but 
there  are  pleasures  and  pleasures.  Tomorrow  you 
may  meet  a  tramp  on  the  Bowery,  all  rags,-  and 
blear-eyed,  a  mass  of  dirt  and  disease.  And  sup¬ 
pose  you  offer  him  a  home,  plead  with  him  for 
temperance,  and  offer  him  work  in  the  country, 
and  ask  him  to  swear  fidelity  to  his  mother’s 
memory  and  his  father’s  God  ?  At  which  the 
wreck  turns  his  bleared  eyes  and  his  purple,  mil¬ 
dewed  lips  toward  some  low  saloon,  and  says, 
“  No,  I  cannot  give  up  these  pleasures.  You  ask 
me  to  sacrifice  too  much.  Let  me  have  these  de¬ 
lights  a  little  longer.”  The  pleasures !  The  pleas- 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


97 


ure  of  an  outraged  digestion!  The  pleasures  of 
inflamed  nerves!  The  pleasures  of  picking  crusts 
out  of  an  ash-barrel  and  the  delights  of  bilge 
water !  The  happiness  incident  to  leading  a 
swine’s  life !  But,  young  man,  this  is  epic  of  your 
own  career.  You  stand  one  or  two  steps  higher, 
to  be  sure ;  yet,  looking  toward  covetousness,  and 
yielding  to  avarice,  and  the  desire  for  rude  posi¬ 
tion,  you  seek  places  and  are  not  willing  to  give 
up  these  low  pleasures  for  the  pleasure  of  an  ap¬ 
proving  conscience,  and  the  smile  of  a  loving 
Father,  and  the  feeling  that  you  have  obeyed  the 
great  convictions  of  the  soul,  and  have  entered 
upon  the  task  of  the  patriot  and  scholar,  and  the 
patrician  Christian.  The  Good  is  an  enemy  of  the 
Better,  and  the  Better  is  an  enemy  of  the  Best. 

Fling  yourself  into  the  Christian  life  with 
abandon,  and  you  will  find  the  highest  happiness, 
happiness  that  is  all  persuasive,  a  sacred  peace,  a 
tranquility  that  pervades  the  whole  being,  a  com¬ 
panionship  that  makes  loneliness  impossible.  The 
youth  who  enters  upon  the  Christian  life  finds  un¬ 
anticipated  rewards.  He  is  like  a  man  who  buys 
a  field  for  wheat,  but,  digging,  finds  coal,  and 
mining  for  coal,  strikes  iron,  and,  surprised  as  he 
digs  for  iron,  discovers  silver,  and  below  that,  sud¬ 
denly  gold  appears!  From  the  viewpoint  of  the 
mining  engineer,  such  strata  are  impossible,  but  as 
an  illustration  of  the  soul’s  unsuspected  discoveries 
and  treasures,  the  illustration  is  not  only  permis¬ 
sible,  but  represents  a  great  solid  fact.  Therefore, 
I  call  you  to  the  Christian  life.  I  call  you  to  a 
surrender  of  the  will,  to  the  supreme  allegiance  of 


98 


SOME  WHO  ARE  OFFENDED 


conscience,  to  the  dedication  of  mind  and  heart  to 
the  Master  and  Saviour  of  the  World.  Enter  this 
school,  and  begin  the  highest  form  of  culture. 
Plant  your  faculties  like  roots  that  shall  grow  unto 
goodly  vines.  Sow  your  thoughts  and  deeds  like 
seeds,  and  reap  therefrom  white  harvests.  Build 
your  character  like  a  cathedral  and  decorate  it  with 
the  faces  of  ideals  and  angels  and  seraphs.  Root 
your  life  in  occupation  and  industry,  in  the  earth 
beneath,  but  remember  that  the  flowers  acquire 
their  fragrance  and  beauty  from  the  heavens 
above. 


VII 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 

“Finally,  brethren,  whatsoever  things  are  true,  what¬ 
soever  things  are  honest ,  whatsoever  things  are  just, 
whatsoever  things  are  pare,  whatsoever  things  are 
lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report;  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these 
things.” — Phil.  iv:8. 

B  RAH  AM  LINCOLN  once  said  that  he 
was  going  to  join  a  church  just  as  soon  as 
he  found  one  that  believed  in  love  to  God 
and  love  to  man.  Once,  during  three  wonderful 
years  there  was  this  ideal  church  upon  our  earth, 
all  ready  for  some  Lincoln  to  join.  Then  every¬ 
body  knew  precisely  what  it  was  to  be  a  Christian. 
A  Christian  was  one  who  followed  Christ,  who 
prayed  to  the  heavenly  Father,  and  who  could  sin¬ 
cerely  say,  “  I  believe  in  the  Beatitudes,  I  believe 
in  forgiving  my  enemies,  I  believe  in  giving  a  cup 
of  cold  water  to  the  poor  and  the  weak,  I  believe 
in  being  kind  and  gentle,  and  in  helping  the  poor.” 

At  that  time,  Jesus  was  the  only  Christian  in  the 
world,  but  He  made  the  Christian  life  so  alluring 
that  His  disciples  went  toward  it  as  naturally  as 
the  birds  go  toward  a  bower  of  roses.  Men  could 
no  more  misunderstand  it  than  they  could  misun¬ 
derstand  a  purple  cluster  or  a  sheaf  of  wheat. 
The  very  children  beholding  Jesus,  felt  they  could 

99 


100  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


be  His  disciples,  just  as  the  noblest  saints  came  to 
feel  that  they  could  never  overtake  Christ’s  divine 
beauty.  The  whole  emphasis  of  Jesus  was  upon 
goodness  and  character.  He  placed  no  emphasis 
upon  books,  for  He  never  wrote  one;  nor  upon  a 
church,  for  He  never  organised  one;  nor  upon  a 
government,  creed  or  catechism,  for  He  passed  by 
all  of  them. 

Jesus  was  not  a  hero  of  the  sword,  nor  a  hero  of 
gold,  nor  a  hero  of  the  forum.  He  was  the  hero 
of  a  life,  beautiful  and  alluring.  Asked  what  it 
was  to  be  a  Christian,  the  disciples  pointed  to 
Jesus.  Asked  to  define  patriotism,  the  historian 
answers  “  Washington.”  Asked  to  define  states¬ 
manship,  the  scholar  answers  “  Daniel  Webster.” 
Asked  to  define  intellect,  the  philosopher  answers 
“  Plato,  and  Aristotle.”  Asked  to  define  the 
Christian,  we  answer  “  Jesus  Christ.”  That  name 
binds  together  all  possible  excellencies,  just  as  the 
string  binds  together  a  thousand  golden  heads  of 
wheat. 

For  thoughtful  men,  the  Christian  life  seems  the 
only  natural  and  normal  life.  Rousseau  led  a 
movement  back  to  Nature.  The  Frenchman’s  in¬ 
fluence  was  at  once  good  and  bad.  The  movement 
away  from  artificiality  was  wholesome  and  healthy, 
but  it  was  a  bad  thing  to  move  from  ripe  back  to 
the  raw,  from  the  oak  back  to  the  acorn,  from  the 
house  back  to  the  cave  in  which  a  savage  man 
dwelt,  from  the  restraints  of  wise  laws  back  to  the 
unbridled  passions  of  forest  children.  What 
France  needed  was  a  movement  not  back  toward 
the  beginnings  of  things,  but  forward  toward  full 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  101 


Nature.  What  is  Nature?  Is  Nature  the  scrub 
oak?  Is  not  Nature  the  acorn  carried  forward  to 
an  acre-covering  oak?  What  is  the  strawberry? 
Is  that  tiny,  sour  berry,  growing  on  the  edge  of  an 
Arctic  snowdrift,  a  strawberry?  Or  is  Nature  the 
strawberry  carried  up  to  its  best  estate  in  the  larg¬ 
est  and  sweetest  berry  that  grows  in  England? 

The  babe  begins  at  nothing  and  slowly  goes 
toward  full  manhood.  The  child  begins  a  mere 
handful  of  seeds,  a  bough  of  unblossomed  buds, 
and  gradually  unfolds.  Slowly  the  intellect  grows 
toward  the  wisdom  of  a  sage.  Slowly,  the  schol¬ 
ar’s  memory  unfolds  into  universal  knowledge. 
No  child  of  today  starts  with  original  arithmetic, 
nor  original  geography,  nor  original  science,  nor 
original  tools,  nor  original  character.  Under  the 
influence  of  God’s  Spirit  goodness  is  achieved. 

But  man  learns  by  example.  Once  the  pupil  be¬ 
holds  the  work  of  the  artist-master,  he  under¬ 
stands.  It  is  the  parent  who  is  the  best  pattern, 
counsellor  and  guide  for  the  child.  Not  otherwise 
our  race  needed  a  typical  man,  as  an  exemplar,  and 
Jesus  entered  the  scene  as  the  first  natural  and 
normal  man.  Was  it  not  Charles  Lamb  who  said 
that  Jesus  was  “  the  world's  first  gentleman  ”  ? 
Plainly  the  divine  Carpenter  standardised  character 
and  gave  something  by  which  to  measure  progress. 
His  whole  emphasis  was  upon  ethics.  No  young 
inventor  can  understand  himself  until  he  studies 
Watt,  Kelvin  or  Edison.  No  young  poet  can  ever 
understand  his  possibilities  until  he  studies  Shakes¬ 
peare,  just  as  no  artist  can  understand  the  beauti¬ 
ful  and  his  own  capacity  to  interpret  loveliness 


102  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


until  he  has  lingered  long  before  some  Rembrandt. 
And  neither  John  nor  Paul  could  ever  have  under¬ 
stood  their  own  latent  capacity  for  heroism  and 
martyrdom,  but  for  the  example  of  Jesus.  What 
Jesus  was,  every  man  must  try  to  be.  But  no  man 
understood  that  possible  goal  until  Jesus  had  lived, 
and  taught  and  died.  He  was  the  earth’s  first 
natural  and  normal  man,  telling  the  race  what  God 
and  His  divine  resources  can  accomplish  upon  each 
human  soul. 

Consider  the  beauty  of  the  Christian  life  as  il¬ 
lustrated  by  Jesus.  It  is  inevitable  that  the  natural 
and  normal  life  shall  blossom  into  the  life  that  is 
beautiful.  No  living  thing,  from  violet  and  ar¬ 
butus  to  oak  and  pine,  can  fulfill  the  law  of  its 
being  without  at  last  coming  into  loveliness.  At 
first,  the  bulb  is  ugly,  but  if  it  obey  the  secret 
voice,  it  will  flower  into  the  tulip’s  brilliancy.  At 
first  the  sweetbriar  is  covered  with  thorns,  but  if 
it  work  steadily  along  its  own  line,  it  will  suddenly 
flame  up  in  crimson  and  white.  Whoever  obeys 
the  law  of  his  work  will  find  that  beauty  is  his 
crown.  Obey  the  law  of  speech  and  you  will  have 
eloquence.  Obey  the  laws  of  form  and  colour  and 
young  Giotto  will  have  a  masterpiece.  Obey  the 
laws  of  writing  and  you  have  literature.  Obey  the 
law  of  morals,  and  you  have  adorned  and  made 
beautiful  the  doctrine  of  God  your  Saviour.  And 
once  a  true  disciple  stands  forth  fully  revealed,  and 
like  Christ,  you  have  the  best  thing  our  earth  has 
to  offer — a  golden  sheaf  waving  its  beauty,  back 
into  the  God  of  summer. 

The  Christian  life  wears  bright  colours,  where 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  103 


any  other  life  whatsoever  wears  black.  The  Chris¬ 
tian  life  holds  all  sweet  music,  where  any  other  life 
whatsoever  holds  a  funeral  dirge.  The  Christian 
life  holds  all  lilies  and  roses,  all  flowers  and  fruits, 
while  other  lives  are  Sahara  sand  or  Arctic  ice. 
Men  have  been  infidel  to  the  deeds  of  Joshua,  in¬ 
fidel  toward  Inquisitions,  infidel  toward  creed,  and 
catechisms.  Men  have  been  infidel  toward  bigotry 
and  intolerance,  but  no  man  ever  lived  who  was 
infidel  to  the  true  Christian  life.  What  a  string  of 
flowers  and  fruits  Paul  assembled  in  describing  the 
beauty  of  the  Christian!  The  child  plucks  the 
raspberries,  black  or  red,  and  strings  them  on  a 
blade  of  grass,  and  the  berries,  overfull  of  juices, 
break,  and  the  purple  flood  runs  down,  and  Paul’s 
words  drip  with  the  nectar  and  wine  of  loveliness. 

Call  the  roll  of  these  beautiful  traits — “  What¬ 
soever  things  are  true.”  Think  you  any  man  ever 
can  be  infidel  to  the  truths  of  earth  and  sun,  as 
stated  by.  Newton?  How  can  any  noble  scholar 
be  infidel  toward  Phocion,  Socrates,  or  Lincoln? 
Did  any  youth  ever  withhold  admiration  from  the 
splendid  deed  of  Jeanie  Deans?  Is  there  any  heart 
so  base  that  it  can  withhold  tears  in  the  moment 
when  Jean  Valjean  speaks  truth  to  his  own  hurt 
and  changes  not?  Overwhelmed  with  the  loveli¬ 
ness  of  Truth,  all  men  bow  down  to  kiss  the  hem 
of  her  garment. 

“  Whatsoever  things  are  pure  ” — was  any  man 
ever  infidel  to  purity?  To  the  whiteness  of  the 
cloud?  The  clarity  of  the  dewdrop?  The  loveli¬ 
ness  of  the  rainbow?  Is  any  man  vile  enough  to 
be  infidel  to  the  innocence  of  the  babe  ?  the  delicacy 


104  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


of  the  maiden?  the  purity  of  a  noble  woman?  to 
the  spotlessness  of  an  unblemished  scholar,  or 
statesman  ? 

“  Whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good 
report  ” — was  any  man  ever  infidel  toward  name 
and  reputation?  The  Christian  life  “is  love,”  and 
all  the  world  loves  a  lover.  No  youth  was  ever 
infidel  to  the  love  that  breathes  and  pulsates  like 
flame  through  the  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese 
of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning.  A  person  is  edu¬ 
cated  in  love  in  proportion  to  his  appreciation  of 
these  supreme  visions,  just  as  the  poet  is  educated 
in  proportion  as  he  knows  Dante  or  Milton.  Was 
any  man  ever  infidel  to  “  joy  ”  in  a  world  where 
all  are  in  a  scramble  to  overtake  happiness  through 
music,  the  drama,  or  social  pleasures?  Was  any 
man  ever  infidel  to  the  peace  manifest  in  the  face 
of  an  old  man  who  has  come  victorious  out  of  all 
the  thunder  of  life’s  battle?  Was  any  ever  infidel 
toward  long-suffering  as  illustrated  in  the  patience 
of  the  brave  soldier,  the  heroic  father,  the  self- 
sacrificing  mother  or  wife?  Earth  holds  no  such 
flowers  as  these  that  bloom  in  the  garden  of  the 
Christian  life.  Kings  own  no  such  strings  of  jew¬ 
els  as  these  gems  called  the  fruits  of  the  spirit,  that 
glow  and  sparkle  like  the  stars,  having  undying 
luster.  Beholding  Christ  and  the  beauty  of  His 
life,  we  can  only  exclaim, — “  How  great  is  His 
goodness  and  how  great  is  His  beauty !  ” 

Consider  that  the  Christian  life  is  the  life  of 
growth.  We  are  in  the  world  to  grow,  and  grow, 
and  still  grow.  Jesus  comes  to  fill  the  soul  with 
noble  discontent.  Nothing  is  stationary  and  un- 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  105 


changing  after  His  spirit  is  received.  Each  vic¬ 
tory  is  only  a  place  where  the  disciple  sets  up  his 
tent  for  the  night,  to  march  forward  to  new 
achievements  on  the  morrow.  Men  do  not  join 
themselves  to  Christ’s  glorious  company  because 
they  are  perfect,  but  because  they  wish  to  be  per¬ 
fect.  Strange  that  men  should  say,  “  I  am  not 
good  enough  to  join  a  church,  and  as  soon  as  I 
feel  that  I  am,  I  will  enter  this  beautiful  company.” 
Does  a  youth  enter  college  because  he  knows  all 
about  science  and  literature?  Does  he  not  make 
application  to  the  college  just  because  he  is  igno¬ 
rant  of  science  and  literature?  Does  the  boy  enter 
the  school  of  fine  arts  because  he  can  paint,  or  that 
he  may  learn  to  paint?  We  found  institutions  of 
law  and  medicine  to  teach  men  the  principles  of 
law  or  to  teach  the  hand  skill  in  surgery.  Peter 
and  John  did  not  wait  until  they  were  perfect  to 
join  Christ’s  disciple  band.  They  were  ignorant, 
and  Jesus  asked  them  to  follow  Him  that  they 
might  become  wise.  They  were  raw,  selfish  and 
crude,  and  Jesus  asked  them  to  follow  Him  that 
He  might,  by  daily  companionship  and  unceasing 
guidance,  make  them  large  and  mature,  struck 
through  and  through  with  sweetness  and  light. 

The  first  processes  of  carpentry  are  easy,  but  not 
the  higher  carving.  The  stone-cutter’s  task  is  easy 
at  the  beginning,  but  the  final  stage  of  shaping  the 
statue  at  the  head  is  very  difficult.  There  is  always 
room  at  the  top,  because  the  topmost  duties  are 
artistic  and  delicate  and  most  complex,  and  few 
climb  thereto.  The  early  stages  of  the  Christian 
life,  when  the  man  forswears  gluttony,  vulgarity, 


106  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


and  so  forth,  are  simple.  Lingering  on  the  out¬ 
skirts  of  the  crowd,  rude  John  Bunyan  said,  as  he 
listened  to  a  wonderful  teacher,  “  Now  I  must  not 
drink  any  more,  I  must  not  fish  on  Sundays,  I 
must  not  swear — not  out  loud/' — and  so  John 
Bunyan  begins.  The  beginning  was  like  digging 
the  cellar  for  a  new  mansion — it  was  very  easy 
work.  But  each  new  tier  of  stone  for  the  first 
story  and  the  second  grows  more  difficult,  and 
when,  finally,  the  mansion  is  to  be  decorated,  then 
the  highest  gifts  of  imagination  are  called  for,  and 
those  artists  named  Faith  and  Hope  and  Love 
slowly  cover  the  walls  with  the  faces  of  angels  and 
seraphs.  Surely,  that  is  a  task  for  archangels! 
That  Bunyan,  who  began  with  rude  foundation 
work,  ends  the  life  task  with  the  delicate  artistry 
of  God.  It  is  not  easy  to  be  a  great  singer,  or  a 
great  painter,  or  a  great  architect,  or  a  great  poet, 
but  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  is  to  be  a 
great  Christian.  For  everything  that  is  right,  and 
true,  and  beautiful  in  nature,  art  or  science,  every¬ 
thing  in  land  or  sea  and  sky  belongs  to  God  and 
Christ,  and  therefore,  to  the  Christian,  who  must 
at  last  stand  forth  “  a  citizen  of  the  universe.” 

If,  however,  the  Christian  life  is  the  freest  and 
the  happiest  of  lives,  it  is  also  the  life  that  carries 
forth  redemption  for  others.  The  difference  be¬ 
tween  the  scholars  of  Athens  and  the  disciple  of 
Jesus  is  that  one  carries  the  cultural  note  that  may 
be  selfish  and  the  other  carries  the  distributive  note 
that  diffuses  happiness  on  every  side.  No  phi¬ 
losopher  of  Athens  ever  braved  the  jungles  of 
Africa  to  be  a  teacher!  No  Athenian  poet  or  ora- 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  107 

tor  ever  dared  martyrdom  to  teach  savages  the  art 
of  eloquence  or  song.  The  very  essence  of  Athe¬ 
nian  culture  was  self-love,  an  ambition  to  achieve 
personal  development,  while  the  essence  of  the 
Christian  life  is  the  impulse  to  serve  others,  and 
sow  the  whole  world  with  happiness  and  good  will. 

Christ  is  abroad  upon  a  mission  of  recovery,  to 
seek  and  save  the  lost.  He  put  His  hands  about 
the  publican,  who  farmed  out  the  taxes,  and  was 
the  best-hated  man  of  his  time,  and  slowly  Jesus 
led  him  back  to  loyalty  and  patriotism.  Having 
the  redemptive  spirit,  Jesus  sought  out  the  blind 
man  who  had  been  expelled  from  the  Temple,  and 
with  kindness  healed  his  wounded  heart.  When 
cruel  men  pursued  that  sinning  woman,  and  would 
have  stoned  her  to  death,  Jesus  made  Himself  a 
shield  for  her  protection,  a  barrier  against  their 
cruelty  and  hate.  Only  once  in  a  generation  is  it 
given  to  us  to  witness  an  illustration  of  this  act 
of  Christ. 

Years  ago,  a  young  lawyer  unable  to  endure  the 
New  England  climate,  made  his  way  into  the  West. 
He  was  a  graduate  of  college  and  law  school,  and 
a  man  of  splendid  gifts.  He  had  not  been  himself 
exempt  from  temptation.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
explain  how  he  had  met  a  young  girl  of  seventeen 
or  thereabouts,  a  mere  child,  who  had  been  snared 
by  silken  threads,  tempted  and  assailed,  until  little 
by  little  all  the  ledges  that  protect  youth  had  been 
broken  down.  Beautiful  was  the  girl,  most  beauti¬ 
ful!  But  all  of  the  sweet  flowers  of  the  soul  had 
been  torn  down,  like  a  vine  torn  from  its  doorway ! 
In  one  great  outburst  of  pity  the  young  lawyer 


108  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


said:  “Leave  this  life.  I  will  take  you  to  an 
Eastern  school  for  girls.  When  you  have  gradu¬ 
ated  I  will  make  a  home  for  you,  and  give  you  my 
name.”  It  was  too  astounding  to  be  true,  and  the 
girl  disbelieved  for  joy!  Soon  with  the  beginning 
of  love  came  the  revelation  of  unworthiness.  One 
day  he  took  the  child  away  to  a  distant  state,  and 
placed  her  in  a  school  for  young  women.  For 
weeks  she  moved  as  gently  as  if  her  feet  were  shod 
with  velvet.  At  last,  angered  by  the  questions  of 
a  companion  who  did  not  understand,  the  girl 
flamed  out  in  fiery  speech,  and  horrified  all  who 
heard  the  outburst.  Horrified  teachers  locked  her 
in  a  closet,  and  telegraphed  for  that  lawyer.  Once, 
twice,  thrice,  he  began  again,  but  the  greater  her 
need  the  greater  his  love.  Three  full  years  came 
and  went  again,  and  she  graduated  from  the  girl’s 
school,  and  when  she  returned  West,  to  that  moun¬ 
tain  state  city,  she  returned  with  his  name.  But 
the  struggle  had  overtaxed  his  strength,  and  his 
old  enemy,  always  lying  in  wait,  tuberculosis,  re¬ 
turned  to  the  attack.  For  seven  years  she  fought 
for  his  life,  holding  him  up  as  death  pulled  him 
down  the  descent. 

Kneeling  one  Sunday  afternoon  beside  that 
man’s  bed,  I  heard  a  little  moan.  I  saw  a  woman 
hanging  over  a  man  lying  with  closed  eyes,  and 
with  the  faintest  possible  breath.  All  the  lamps  of 
love  were  aflame.  She  loved  as  the  tigress  loves. 
She  hung  over  that  man  as  the  mother-eagle  hangs 
over  her  young  for  protection.  She  was  not  one 
woman — she  was  a  thousand  women.  Her  hands 
were  not  strong  simply;  they  were  hands  that  had 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  109 


the  strength  of  archangels.  It  was  not  adoration; 
it  was  adoration  and  love  carried  up  to  the  nth 
power.  Oh,  the  flame  of  it  upon  that  woman’s 
face!  Once  seen,  it  could  never  be  forgotten.  It 
is  a  flame  seldom  kindled.  Not  one  man  in  a  thou¬ 
sand  ever  heard  such  love  words!  She  had  been 
forgiven  much,  and  she  loved  much !  Perhaps  not 
many  women  in  a  generation  love  as  that  woman 
loved.  Love  heaved  her  soul,  as  the  tide  heaves 
the  sea!  Love  pulsated  through  her  face  as  iron 
boils  and  pulsates,  with  secret  heat  and  light. 

The  love  names  she  poured  upon  that  dying 
man’s  bed  held  such  things  as  no  Dante  ever  said 
of  Beatrice.  The  dying  lawyer  deserved  it  all. 
But  what  that  lawyer  did  for  that  bruised  flower, 
God,  in  His  redemptive  love,  is  always  doing  for 
us.  The  first  sign  of  a  true  Christian  is  this  re¬ 
demptive  instinct,  this  desire  to  recover  others  out 
of  the  storm,  the  hail  and  night,  into  the  Eden  of 
happiness  and  peace. 

O  all  ye  young  hearts !  Consider  well  this  beau¬ 
tiful  and  alluring  life!  Not  to  a  monkish  life,  not 
to  an  artificial  life,  are  you  called,  but  to  a  free, 
full-orbed,  vitalised,  rich,  luminous  life  of  com¬ 
plete  manhood !  Do  not  spend  the  richness  of  your 
youth  upon  yourself  and  then  give  the  embers  and 
ashes  of  a  wasted  career  to  the  Master  of  us  all ! 
Considerations  of  honour  suggest  generosity  to¬ 
ward  God.  If  very  early  you  begin  the  practice 
and  the  study  of  law,  medicine  and  business,  begin 
even  earlier  the  practice  of  the  Christian  life.  Re¬ 
member  how  short  the  time  is.  At  best  you  have 
all  too  little  time  in  a  world  where  the  years  dis- 


110  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 


solve  like  snowflakes  in  a  river.  Uncertain  also 
the  future. 

Wise  toward  your  house  and  store,  you  insure 
goods.  Be  not  careless,  therefore,  about  the  treas¬ 
ures  of  the  soul.  All  things  else  will  go,  your 
houses  will  rot,  the  tools  will  rust,  riches  take 
wings  and  even  health  will  at  last  leave  you!  As 
your  strength  lessens,  your  offices  and  honours  will 
go  to  others  who  have  stronger  hands.  Death,  too, 
will  war  against  you,  and  soon  you  will  be  solitary, 
because  your  own  generation  will  have  gone.  If 
your  soul  is  like  a  great  mansion  do  not  be  afraid 
to  renovate  the  rooms.  Have  you  locked  up  the 
room  where  conscience  lives?  Are  there  skeletons 
hidden  away  in  that  room  over  which  memory  pre¬ 
sides?  Light  the  lamp  and  search  out  every  hid¬ 
den  thing.  From  time  to  time  the  housewife 
cleanses  the  garret  and  cellar  and  with  antiseptics 
sweetens  all  things!  If  women  are  prudent  about 
things  that  perish,  should  you  be  reckless  about 
things  of  the  soul,  that  abide  forever?  Pluck 
up  by  the  roots  the  poison  plant  and  deadly 
nightshade.  In  these  days  make  the  life  a  garden 
in  which  new  wondrous  plants  and  flowers  shall 
soon  be  growing.  Remember  that  your  life  is  not 
in  these  things  that  are  seen.  It  is  given  unto 
summer  to  make  all  things  new  in  pasture  and 
field!  And  with  what  form  of  transformation? 
The  voice  that  bids  the  seeds  waken  is  not  the 
voice  of  thunder.  The  stroke  that  the  Angel  of 
Summer  lays  upon  the  root  is  not  the  stroke  of  the 
earthquake.  The  rain  clouds  do  not  thunder  forth 
the  coming  of  Summer.  The  Angel  of  Summer 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  111 


rides  in  a  chariot  of  the  South  Wind,  on  wheels 
that  are  noiseless.  These  creative  forces  are  silent 
and  secret  forces.  Quietly  the  violet  and  arbutus 
unfold  beneath  the  old  leaves.  Silently  these  un¬ 
seen  fingers  embroider  the  carpet  of  the  earth  with 


gold  and  blue.  Soon  all  pastures  will  wave  with 
grass  and  all  meadows  with  corn.  When  at  last 
the  voice  of  the  harvester  is  heard  in  the  land  the 
overflowing  granaries  will  represent  the  secret  and 
invisible  work  of  One  who  comes  to  make  all 
things  beautiful  and  ripe  in  their  time! 


VIII 

MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


“I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life ,  and  that  they 
might  have  it  more  abundantly ” — John  x:  io. 

WHAT  all  the  world  is  seeking  is  life, — life, 
life,  more  life — rich,  creative  life.  Now 
and  then  a  man  appears  alive  to  his  finger 
tips,  a  man  who  never  tires,  whose  enthusiasm 
never  wanes,  as  apostle,  patriot,  reformer,  teacher 
— a  man  glowing  like  some  planet  that  sparkles 
with  ten  thousand  effects.  Once  in  a  century  we 
behold  one  of  these  vitalised  men,  a  spiritual  dy¬ 
namo,  some  Paul,  flinging  off  laws,  reforms, 
martyrdoms,  and  then  riding  into  the  sky,  per¬ 
chance,  in  a  chariot  of  flame.  What  man  wants  is 
life  physical,  and  that  means  abounding  health, 
passion  for  work,  an  eager  longing  for  such  new 
days  to  come  with  opportunity  for  productive  in¬ 
dustry.  Men  want  life  intellectual,  and  that  means 
a  hungry  mind,  constant  growth,  increasing  cul¬ 
ture,  a  consciousness  of  being  fully  equal  to  any 
emergency.  Man  wants  life  for  his  affections,  and 
that  means  an  increasing  capacity  for  friendship 
and  loyalty  to  those  we  love,  with  power  to  keep 
our  friendships  in  repair.  Man  wants  life  spirit¬ 
ual,  and  that  brings  the  gift  of  peace,  freedom 
from  worry,  full  power  to  rise  victorious  over  all 

112 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


113 


disasters  and  trouble.  The  secret  of  happiness  and 
success  is  in  a  deep  uprising  life,  rushing  forth  in 
exterior  service.  What  we  call  failure  is  the  con¬ 
sciousness  that  there  is  a  wide  gap  between  our 
ambition  and  our  performance. 

What  is  the  remedy?  Watkinson  has  a  beauti¬ 
ful  statement :  “  Give  that  despairing  musician  an 
atom  of  Mozart’s  melodious  brain;  that  halting 
poet  a  spark  of  Shakespeare’s  fire,  that  struggling 
painter  a  nerve  of  Turner’s  colour  sense,  that  stam¬ 
mering  orator  a  little  of  Demosthenes’  tongue,  and 
bitter  failure  will  be  at  an  end;  there  will  be  no 
more  exhausting  difficulty  and  delay,  only  the  in¬ 
toxicating  sense  of  mastery,  progress  and  delight.” 
More  life  in  the  learner  is  what  is  needed,  and 
then  every  difficulty  is  vanquished  and  every  as¬ 
piration  fulfilled.”  Now  that  is  the  secret  of 
Christ’s  mission — He  comes  to  give  life — rich, 
creative  life.  Concerning  the  great  missionaries, 
prophets  and  heroes,  let  us  say,  “  Christ  was  in 
them,  the  mainspring  of  their  energy,  the  hope  of 
their  glory.” 

With  reference  to  this  word  “  I  come  to  bring 
life,”  Matthew  Arnold  once  said,  “  There  is  a 
power  in  the  world,  not  ourselves,  that  makes  for 
righteousness.”  What  is  called  modern  civilisa¬ 
tion  is  based  upon  that  unseen  power  that  is  not 
ourselves,  but  that  loans  its  almightiness  to  man’s 
littleness.  Today,  every  man  is  one  hundred  man 
power.  How?  Through  “the  power  that  i*s  not 
ourselves.”  Today  our  average  income  per  family 
is  two  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Through  what 
force  ?  Through  the  power  not  ourselves  that 


114 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


makes  for  property.  The  workman’s  hand  strikes 
a  blow  of  one  hundred  pounds,  while  the  unseen 
power  of  electricity  through  a  triphammer  strikes 
a  blow  of  ten  tons.  Man’s  leg  walks  four  miles 
an  hour,  while,  through  an  invisible  power,  that 
airplane  makes  one  hundred  miles  an  hour,  cross¬ 
ing  forests,  rivers,  plains,  two  mountain  ranges, 
and  reaches  the  Pacific  Ocean  in  about  twenty- 
seven  hours.  Man’s  voice  carries  to  several 
thousand  people,  but  through  the  new  wireless 
and  the  power  not  ourselves  man’s  words  reach 
several  millions.  Little  wonder  that  man  is  called 
by  John  a  son  of  God,  able  now  to  think  God’s 
thoughts  out  after  Him;  now  with  a  little  reed 
measuring  yonder  Milky  Way;  now  weighing  dis¬ 
tant  stars,  foretelling  their  movements,  weighing 
their  masses.  Man  seems  approaching,  by  swift 
steps,  an  era  when  all  things  in  the  heavens  above 
and  the  earth  beneath,  and  even  the  waters  under 
the  earth,  shall  bow  down  in  His  presence,  and, 
like  well-trained  servants,  fulfill  His  will.  But  how 
is  it  that  man  turns  poisons  into  medicines  and 
foods?  Why,  through  a  power  not  ourselves,  as 
God  progressively  loans  man’s  intellect  parts  of 
His  omniscience;  loans  man’s  weakness  portions 
of  His  omnipotence;  loans  man’s  brief  years  the 
gift  of  His  eternal  life.  Not  otherwise  Jesus  pro¬ 
gressively  gives  life  and  vitality  to  the  nerve  of 
religious  sensation;  gives  a  wider  vision  to  man’s 
spiritual  optic  nerve;  gives  the  love  of  holiness  to 
man’s  selfishness.  Something  transformed  that 
false  Jacob  into  the  Prince  of  Israel.  Plainly  God 
met  Jacob  unexpectedly  in  the  desert.  Some  great 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


115 


upheaval  transformed  Saul  into  Paul.  Plainly  the 
life  of  God  was  poured  into  the  soul  of  Saul, 
making  all  things  new.  This  word,  “  I  am  come  to 
bring  life,”  explains  the  appearance  of  great  men, 
the  dawn  of  new  eras,  the  rise  of  new  liberties,  the 
social  upheavals  that  have  overthrown  ancient 
abuses,  and  helped  make  all  things  new. 

It  is  comparison  and  contrast  that  gives  the 
sense  of  value  and  ranks  world  leaders.  Some 
great  religious  teachers  came  interesting  them¬ 
selves  in  institutions,  traditions  or  manners.  Con¬ 
fucius  came  with  a  cut-and-dried  system  of  rever¬ 
ence  to  parents,  loyalty  to  yesterday,  and  when  a 
hundred  years  had  passed  paralysis  had  fallen  upon 
the  creative  faculty  of  the  Chinese  and  made  prog¬ 
ress  a  baseless  fabric  of  a  dream.  Moses  came 
building  a  tabernacle,  planning  synagogues,  devel¬ 
oping  rituals  and  sacrifices.  Buddha  came  digging 
a  chasm  between  classes  and  annihilating  sensi¬ 
tiveness  of  feeling,  delicacy  of  emotion,  while 
the  heaven  he  promised  was  “  unconsciousness.” 
Moses  built  a  synagogue — not  Jesus.  Mohammed 
founded  a  mosque — not  Jesus.  Buddha  taught 
self-immolation,  and  progressive  hardening  of  the 
heart — not  Jesus.  Jesus  never  built  a  single 
church,  He  never  wrote  a  line  or  a  sermon,  He 
never  polished  a  single  creed  or  litany,  He  never 
ordained  a  single  priest  or  bishop.  He  came  pour¬ 
ing  life  into  the  soul  of  each  individual  and  then 
left  that  individual  to  express  himself.  Each  tem¬ 
perament  wrote  its  own  creed,  each  race  wrote  its 
own  litany,  each  tribe  developed  its  own  polity  and 
form  of  government. 


116 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


What  the  sun  does  depends  upon  the  soil  and 
seed.  The  sun  falls  on  the  prairies  of  Minnesota 
and  the  soil  answers  with  wheat.  The  sun  falls  on 
the  soil  of  the  South  and  the  soil  answers  with 
cotton.  The  sun  falls  on  the  fields  of  Cuba  and 
Cuba  answers  with  sugar.  The  sun  says  to  the 
violet,  “  Here  is  abundance ;  take  what  you  will,” 
and  the  violet  takes  a  little  light  and  returns  per¬ 
fume;  just  as  the  oak  takes  much  light  and  returns 
ship-timber.  Not  otherwise  Christ  came  bringing 
life  as  the  summer  making  sun.  His  light  fell 
upon  Wittenburg,  and  Luther  answered  with  his 
Bible.  The  light  fell  on  Geneva  and  Calvin  an¬ 
swered  with  the  Institutes  of  Theology.  His 
light  fell  on  England  and  Wesley  answered  with 
the  Freedom  of  Choice.  The  light  fell  on  this 
new  world  and  Jonathan  Edwards  answered  with 
his  Freedom  of  the  Will ,  just  as  Beecher  answered 
with  a  statement  of  the  love  of  God.  And  now 
Japan  is  founding  a  Japanese  Christian  Church, 
but  that  church  will  have  a  Japanese  creed,  Japan¬ 
ese  hymns  and  a  Japanese  order  of  church  govern¬ 
ment.  It  is  this  disinterested  “  Life  ”  given  to  all 
races  and  peoples  that  makes  inevitable  a  difference 
in  theologies,  forms  of  government  and  worship. 
There  is  one  glory  of  the  flowers  and  another  glory 
of  the  grains,  and  another  glory  of  the  trees,  but 
the  sun  is  one  and  the  same.  Not  otherwise  differ¬ 
ent  churches  have  their  own  forms  of  excellence, 
but  derive  their  precious  qualities  from  the  same 
overruling  God,  and  the  common  Master  of  us  all. 
Differences  of  temperament  explain  the  diver¬ 
gencies  in  creeds. 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


117 


It  is  this  inrushing  rich,  creative,  divine  life, 
given  freely,  that  brings  the  disciple  immunity  to 
temptation  and  sin.  Scientists  tell  us  that  the  air 
is  always  filled  with  the  germs  of  every  known  dis¬ 
ease.  From  time  to  time  some  plague-stricken  ship 
drops  anchor  in  one  of  our  harbours  and  the  health 
authorities  become  alarmed  and  the  people  panic- 
stricken.  Quarantine  rules  are  established;  ships 
are  disinfected  and  bedding  in  the  cabins  is  burned. 
Every  precaution  is  taken  lest  the  plague  spread. 
But  useful  as  these  barriers  are  it  still  remains  true 
that  the  best  safeguard  against  the  deadly  fever  or 
plague  is  plenty  of  good  sleep,  abundance  of  nour¬ 
ishing  food,  exercise,  and  a  mind  free  from  worry. 
Drummond  defines  death  as  “  the  point  where  old 
cells  are  in  the  majority  and  break  down  faster 
than  new  cells  can  be  built  up.”  For  six  hours  the 
tide  comes  in,  then  comes  a  critical  moment  when 
the  tide  barely  holds  its  own,  and  then  it  slowly 
begins  to  ebb.  Oftentimes  we  hear  sailors  saying 
concerning  one  who  is  desperately  sick,  “  He  will 
go  out  with  the  tide.”  This  explains  the  reason 
why  physicians  at  the  front  never  stopped  telling 
the  nurses  that  their  salvation  was  in  building  new 
cells  faster  than  old  ones  break  down. 

The  best  way  to  keep  the  weeds  down  is  to  sow 
the  newly-ploughed  soil  with  wheat  or  oats.  It  is 
the  shade  of  the  new  oats  and  wheat  that  holds  in 
check  the  weeds.  The  mere  absence  of  thorns  and 
thistles  through  the  negatives  of  Moses  involves 
starvation.  Jesus  began  anew  where  the  negatives 
of  Moses  stopped,  and  He  rushed  on  to  achieve 
the  positives :  Thou  shalt  love,  thou  shalt  hope, 


118 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


thou  shalt  trust  and  thou  shalt  serve.  The  inrush- 
ing  life  of  God  forces  back  the  old  life  of  selfish¬ 
ness  and  sin.  The  life  of  God  was  in  Livingstone, 
and  he  loved  kindness,  purity  and  self-sacrifice. 
One  day  Henry  Morton  Stanley  fled  from  a  poor, 
diseased  creature  lying  beside  the  path  in  the  for¬ 
est,  but  Livingstone  picked  up  the  sufferer,  carried 
him  to  the  spring,  bathed  his  body,  cleansed  the 
wounds,  nursed  the  wounded  one  back  to  health 
again.  Light  is  an  antiseptic  for  material  germs, 
while  love  and  trust  are  the  great  medicines  of  our 
spiritual  therapeutics. 

In  bringing  this  new  life  Jesus  released  certain 
latent  and  unsuspected  powers  in  man.  In  his 
essay  on  the  duty  of  performing  the  impossible, 
and  realising  tasks  quite  beyond  man’s  strength 
and  wisdom,  Professor  James  insists  that  there  are 
whole  strata  of  undeveloped  faculties  in  the  human 
soul.  James  believed  that  every  man  could  double 
his  working  capacity,  increase  his  efficiency,  and 
achieve  as  a  man  deeds  attributed  to  the  sons  of 
God.  He  tells  us  about  men  lost  in  the  desert, 
whose  last  atom  of  strength  was  exhausted — men 
who  had  fallen  unconscious  upon  the  sand,  yet  in 
stumbling  upon  a  dying  woman  or  child,  the  trav¬ 
eler’s  intellect  and  will  were  startled  and  they 
began  to  draw  upon  the  substratum  of  energy  and 
go  on  untired,  carrying  burdens  quite  undreamed 
of  hitherto.  He  speaks  of  soldiers,  unconscious 
through  sheer  exhaustion  and  too  weak  to  lift  a 
finger,  but  when  some  one  shouts  into  the  man’s 
ear  the  story  of  the  new  peril,  suddenly  the  tired 
man  revives,  opens  the  door  into  a  new  chamber 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


119 


of  strength,  calls  forth  hidden  energies  and  strides 
forward  as  fresh  as  if  he  had  never  heard  of  tire. 

In  California  the  upper  stratum  of  oil-bearing 
sand  is  exhausted.  Derricks  scattered  about  were 
pulled  down  and  a  landscape  hitherto  unsightly  re¬ 
covered  to  beauty.  Some  scientists  believed  that 
there  might  be  a  second,  underlying,  oil-bearing 
stratum  of  sand,  and  the  new  borings  brought 
gushers,  and  now,  after  being  exhausted  a  second 
time,  the  oil  men  of  California  explored  nearly  a 
mile  in  depth  and  opened  up  still  newer  fields,  and 
today,  out  of  those  deep-lying,  strangely  hidden 
strata,  California  is  producing  more  oil  riches  than 
any  other  country  whatsoever.  Jesus  believed  in 
man.  “  Stretch  forth  thy  hand,”  He  said  to  the 
cripple  with  the  shrivelled  arm.  Once  the  man 
knew  that  it  was  his  duty  to  perform  the  impos¬ 
sible  he  tried  to  obey,  and  so  won  back  his  health. 
The  shock  of  the  new  creative  life  flowing  from  a 
new  graft  into  an  old  stalk  holds  Burbank’s  theory 
of  producing  new  flowers,  new  melons,  new  fruits, 
new  trees,  a  new  human  race,  and  a  new  world. 
“  I  am  come  to  give  life,”  and  that  means  that  the 
ambitious  boy  can  grow.  “  I  am  come  to  give 
life,”  and  that  means  that  it  is  always  better  farther 
on.  How  wonderful  the  opportunity  of  the  next 
generation ! 

How  easily  man  can  double  his  working  ca¬ 
pacity  and  his  efficiency!  The  manufacturer 
widens  his  drainage  area  to  get  a  deeper  and  more 
powerful  current  to  pound  upon  his  turbines.  The 
engineer  increases  his  voltage  that  he  may  widen 
the  walls  of  the  world  room  into  which  he  is 


120 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


speaking.  What  a  coward  was  John,  following 
afar  off!  How  timid  Peter,  how  repeated  and 
diverse  the  denials  of  the  disciples!  Then  Jesus 
drew  near  and  laid  His  hands  upon  these  young 
disciples  and  poured  the  life  of  God  into  their 
souls.  And  immediately  they  rose  in  the  spirit  of 
heroes.  Always  the  method  was  the  life  of  God 
pouring  into  the  soul  of  the  twelve,  then  the 
twelve  or  fifteen  touched  the  three  thousand,  and 
poured  the  life  stream  into  them;  then  the  three 
thousand  put  their  hands  upon  forty  thousand, 
and  became  the  channel  of  still  onrushing  life;  the 
forty  thousand  have  soon  communicated  life  into 
a  million,  and  the  million  unto  three  millions,  and 
then  suddenly  Jesus  was  on  the  throne  of  the 
Caesars.  Personal  contact  of  disciples,  having  the 
life  of  God  in  their  souls,  changed  the  souls  of 
others.  Today,  we  have  over  eight  hundred  mil¬ 
lion  Christians  in  the  world.  If  this  company 
should  organise  a  forward  movement  we  could 
easily  evangelise  the  sixteen  hundred  millions  of 
the  human  race  within  this  generation.  This  task 
of  redeeming  the  world  is  the  task  of  the  pew  and 
not  alone  of  the  pulpit.  Every  one  of  you  must 
be  a  channel  for  the  life  of  God,  received  on  the 
one  side  and  communicated  to  your  brethren  on 
the  other.  Every  one  of  you  must  give  an  ac¬ 
count  unto  God  for  the  condition  of  your  church, 
your  city,  and  your  commonwealth.  Do  not  at 
your  peril  ask  for  this  divine  gift  and  then  try  and 
hoard  it  for  yourself.  Eternal  life  is  kept  by  being 
given  away.  The  disciple  grows  by  serving  and 
sacrificing.  Physical  growth  comes  through  good 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


121 


food,  exercise  and  sleep,  and  spiritual  growth 
comes  by  praying  for  the  poor,  and  loving  the 
unfortunate  and  serving  the  unhappy.  To  be 
bread  to  the  hungry,  to  be  light  to  the  darkened, 
to  be  life  to  those  who  sit  in  the  region  and  shadow 
of  death  is  henceforth  your  mission — your  duty, 
and  also  your  opportunity! 

It  is  this  principle  that  explains  the  occasional 
disciple  who  is  carried  up  to  apostleship.  There  is 
an  immeasurable  difference  between  a  disciple  of 
Christ  and  an  apostle  of  Christ.  There  were  five 
hundred  disciples,  there  were  only  twelve  who 
became  apostles.  These  hundreds  were  at  peace 
with  God  and  their  own  souls,  and  went  tranquilly 
across  the  years,  but  there  were  a  few  apostles  who 
borrowed  God’s  spiritual  omnipotence,  and  they 
went  out  through  the  world  on  a  spiritual  crusade, 
breaking  down  tyrannies,  destroying  social  crimes, 
turning  the  whole  world  of  ignorance  and  sin  up¬ 
side  down.  A  disciple  is  a  pupil,  studying.  An 
apostle  is  a  workman,  who  has  passed  from  learn¬ 
ing  to  achievement.  For  three  years  the  five  hun¬ 
dred  were  disciples  before  Christ’s  death,  and  they 
were  content  to  remain  disciples  all  the  rest  of 
their  lives.  But  there  were  a  few  who  felt  that 
three  years  was  long  enough  for  discipleship. 
After  that  they  stretched  up  their  hands  and 
plucked  the  sword  of  omnipotence  out  of  the  hand 
of  God,  a  sword  red  with  insufferable  wrath 
against  sin,  and  went  forth  to  slay  iniquity. 
Water  is  always  water,  you  say.  By  no  means. 
The  raindrops  are  water,  lying  in  the  quiet  little 
pool,  or  in  Lake  Erie,  But  the  energy  of  Lake 


122 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


Erie  is  latent  and  unreleased.  Now  let  the  water 
of  the  lake  pour  over  Niagara  Falls,  and  water 
suddenly  becomes  dynamic  and  apostolic,  lighting 
distant  villages,  working  distant  factories,  carrying 
burdens  for  tired  workmen.  Thus  the  truth  of 
Christ  was  a  latent  and  static  truth  in  the  five  hun¬ 
dred  disciples,  who  were  content  to  be  redeemed 
themselves,  but  it  was  dynamic  truth  in  Paul,  who 
went  forth  to  reform,  in  Peter,  who  looked  upon 
every  rock  as  a  pulpit  into  which  he  could  climb  to 
evangelise;  in  James,  who  went  forth  with  tire¬ 
less  energy  to  care  for  the  widow  and  the  orphans; 
in  John,  who  went  forth  among  the  turbulent,  war¬ 
ring  multitudes,  to  whisper  to  each  combatant, — 
“  love  is  of  God.’’  It  is  this  spiritual  energy  of 
God  that  changes  a  disciple  into  an  apostle. 

History  is  full  of  these  occasional  men  who  at¬ 
tempt  impossible  things  and  plans,  and  were  suc¬ 
cessful  in  their  exploits.  Every  man  is  under  an 
obligation  to  perform  the  impossible.  His  duty  is 
always  greater  than  his  ability.  When  the  mother 
stands  the  child  one  year  old  up  against  a  wall,  and 
commands  the  child  to  walk,  it  is  impossible  for 
the  child  to  walk,  and  yet  it  is  the  child’s  duty. 
The  mother  makes  a  temporary  loan  of  her 
strength  to  a  child  that  is  attempting  the  impos¬ 
sible,  and  the  child  succeeds,  just  as  God  makes  a 
temporary  loan  of  His  omnipotence  to  William 
the  Silent,  to  Garrison  the  emancipator,  to  Living¬ 
stone  the  missionary,  and  to  Booth  the  reformer. 
With  finite  power  apostles  perform  infinite  deeds. 
With  human  faculties  they  work  divine  achieve¬ 
ments.  Manhood  is  carried  up  to  the  nth  power, 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


123 


through  the  influence  of  omnipotence.  It  is  an 
acorn’s  duty  to  lift  a  thousand  hogsheads  of  water 
into  the  air  during  a  single  summer.  Just  because 
each  day  the  little  oak  plantlet  attempts  the  impos¬ 
sible,  the  earth  at  the  root  and  the  sun  upon  the 
bough  enable  the  oak  to  achieve  that  miracle.  Now 
that  vegetable  fact  shadows  forth  the  spiritual  im¬ 
possibilities  going  on  about  us  every  day. 

This  principle  explains  the  singular  influence 
of  some  occasional  people  in  the  community. 
There  are  a  few  people  who  seem  to  have  an  in¬ 
fluence  entirely  disproportionate  to  their  mental 
gifts,  to  their  culture  or  their  property.  Quietly 
and  unobtrusively  they  go  about,  doing  their  work 
day  by  day;  and  yet,  they  carry  a  warm  summery 
climate  with  them,  and  the  roses  and  lilies  of  faith 
and  hope  spring  up  about  their  feet  as  they  walk 
up  and  down  the  streets.  To  the  few  who  know 
them  best,  they  seem  miracle  workers.  With  the 
passing  years  this  power  to  transform  their  fel¬ 
lows  increases  with  the  waning  of  their  physical 
strength.  Where  others  grope,  they  see  clearly. 
Putting  out  their  hands  they  lead  the  blind  into  a 
path  that  is  henceforth  flooded  with  light.  Some¬ 
times  they  stand  in  silence,  with  fingers  upon  the 
lips,  as  if  they  heard  from  afar  the  faint  but  clear 
music,  rolling  in  from  God’s  rich  sky.  And  listen¬ 
ing,  lo,  their  companions  whose  ears  have  hitherto 
been  deaf,  suddenly  begin  to  catch  the  first  faint 
notes  of  that  melody  so  piercingly  sweet. 

These  who  have  borrowed  God’s  strength,  go 
forth  to  those  whose  hands  have  dropped  the  tool, 
and  suddenly  the  tired  worker  finds  his  yoke  easy 


124 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


and  his  burden  light.  These  occasional  people 
differ  from  the  multitudes  that  throng  and  press 
about  us,  just  as  Shakespeare  differs  from  a  peas¬ 
ant  boy.  Just  as  Raphael  differs  from  a  paint 
grinder,  just  as  Christopher  Wren  differs  from  a 
child  building  block  houses.  Now  how  shall  we 
explain  them?  The  greatness  of  these  occasional 
men  and  women  is  the  greatness  of  God  in  them. 
The  inventor  uses  the  physical  forces  of  God. 
These  gentle  disciples  do  all  things  through  Christ 
who  doth  strengthen  and  make  the  soul  equal  to 
any  emergency.  Tomorrow,  oh,  man  and  woman! 
thou  shalt  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  To¬ 
morrow  will  bring  an  impossible  burden,  but  to¬ 
morrow  will  also  bring  the  will  to  act  upon  God’s 
offer  to  loan  you  His  infinite  wisdom  and  power, 
against  a  critical  hour,  big  with  destiny  for  all 
you  love ! 

In  these  days  when  men  are  talking  about  the 
influence  of  the  Church  in  the  community,  this 
principle  assumes  singular  importance.  One  half 
of  us  is  talking  about  equipment,  tools,  kin¬ 
dergartens,  social  settlements,  clubs,  gymnasiums, 
while  the  other  half  is  talking  about  the  en- 
duement  of  power,  and  the  divine  tides  coming 
in  upon  the  soul  of  man.  It  is  as  if  one  man 
should  look  at  the  electric  bulb  and  say,  “  We  need 
better  electric  fixtures,”  while  the  other  man  looks 
at  the  dynamo  in  the  basement,  and  remembers 
only  “  the  invisible  current.”  The  central  fact  is 
that  for  light  and  heat  we  need  both  more  power 
and  better  achievements.  The  new  era  means  new 
social  devices,  better  physical  life,  higher  wages, 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


125 


juster  laws,  a  diffusion  of  all  good  things,  but  it 
means  also  and  primarily  the  life  of  God  in  the 
soul  of  man.  The  relation  between  the  Church  and 
the  world  is  the  relation  between  the  sun  and  the 
tropics  and  arctics.  God  warms  the  flood  of 
waters  at  the  tropic  centre,  and  the  great  circular 
movement  begins.  The  warmed  waters  and  the 
Gulf  current  of  air  starts  north  toward  Labrador 
and  England,  and  the  cold  Arctic  current  and  air 
starts  south  toward  the  glowing  tropic  centre  to 
have  the  chill  of  death  taken  away.  Then,  when 
the  cold  is  made  warm  and  quick,  it  starts  north 
itself,  to  bring  life  to  the  very  regions  from  which 
once  it  had  its  death,  while  the  warm  Gulf  stream 
that  is  now  chill  and  cold  turns  south  again  to  the 
warm  brooding  of  the  sun  above. 

So  the  movement  under  the  law  of  circularity 
goes  ever  on,  in  God’s  physical  world,  as  a  per¬ 
petual  symbol  of  the  life  of  the  soul  that  is 
warmed  by  the  love  of  God.  Filled  with  the  com¬ 
passion  of  Christ,  the  man-God,  goes  out  during 
the  week  into  the  street  chilled  by  selfishness  and 
frozen  with  sin,  to  pour  the  rich  tropic  tides  of 
love  and  compassion  upon  a  winter-clad  world.  It 
is  the  life  of  God  that  releases  the  frozen  roots  and 
the  chilled  seeds,  to  their  summer’s  growth;  it  is 
the  spirit  of  God  that  is  warmth,  release,  growth, 
life,  to  the  frozen  hearts  of  men.  It  is  this  brood¬ 
ing  life  and  love  of  God,  that  brings  summer  to  the 
soul  and  makes  faith  and  hope  indigenous.  What 
man  needs  is  to  be  carried  up  to  the  nth  power  of 
influence  and  personal  worth.  Borrowing,  there¬ 
fore,  God’s  physical  energy  as  an  inventor;  having 


126 


MAN’S  GREATEST  NEED 


multiplied  each  average  man  by  a  hundred  men, 
through  the  energies  of  electricity,  let  us  remember 
above  all  that  we  may  have  the  infinite  strength  of 
God  to  help  us  bear  life’s  burdens,  conquer  its 
temptations,  and  fulfill  its  tasks,  until  we  make  the 
earth  to  be  once  more  an  Eden  garden,  a  veritable 
heaven  of  righteousness  and  peace. 


IX 


keeping  faith  with  our  fathers 

“Keep  that  which  is  committed  to  thy  trust.” — I  Tim. 
vi :  20. 


IN  his  book  of  courage  Carlyle  calls  the  roll  of 
the  heroes  of  the  nations.  Phocion  is  the  hero 
of  Athens,  Julius  Caesar  of  Rome,  Robert 
Bruce  of  Scotland,  while  Cromwell  stands  for 
England  and  Washington  for  America.  Not 
otherwise  Paul  is  the  hero  of  the  Christian  faith — 
a  hero  who  stands  forth  supreme,  with  the  second 
man  a  score  of  leagues  behind.  There  will  be  a 
hundred  Washingtons  and  Cromwells  born  before 
there  is  another  Paul.  He  was  an  author,  and  his 
Ode  of  Love  and  his  argument  upon  Immortality 
are  the  most  quoted  and  best  loved  things  in  litera¬ 
ture.  He  was  an  orator,  and  by  sheer  force  of 
genius  he  vanquished  hostile  mobs,  talked  the 
stones  out  of  his  enemies’  hands  and  talked  hate 
out  of  their  hearts.  One  day,  standing  with  his 
left  hand  chained  to  the  right  hand  of  his  jailer, 
Paul  addressed  his  judge  and  King  Agrippa,  and 
before  his  plea  was  completed  he  had  transformed 
enemies  into  friends ! 

Paul  was  also  a  theologian  and  philosopher. 
Today,  if  he  should  return  to  earth,  he  would  have 
a  right  to  say  to  Augustine,  “  This  is  my  City  of 

127 


128 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


God ”  and  to  Calvin,  “  These  are  my  Institutes  of 
Religion  ”  and  to  Hamilton,  “  This  is  my  Republic 
of  God  ”  Saul  was  born  in  a  rich  man’s  house, 
and  from  childhood  was  accustomed  to  ease  and 
luxury.  He  was  educated  in  a  great  literary  cen¬ 
ter,  and  was  the  favourite  pupil  of  Gamaliel,  the 
teacher.  He  was  the  most  learned  rabbi  in  the  Jew¬ 
ish  synagogues,  and  despite  his  youth,  and  the 
force  of  tradition,  he  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Sanhedrim.  Gifted  with  a  fiery  nature,  and 
untiring  zeal,  when  the  new  faith  began  to  spread, 
Saul  flung  himself  with  the  fury  of  a  tornado  upon 
the  band  of  disciples.  He  organised  a  mob  and 
helped  zealots  stone  to  death  Stephen.  With  an¬ 
other  group  he  mobbed  the  home  of  James  and 
flung  the  disciple  from  a  second-story  window,  and 
so  killed  the  brother  of  Jesus.  Tike  Torquemada 
with  his  rack  and  thumb-screw  and  blazing  faggot, 
Saul’s  hate  grew  more  and  more,  feeding  upon  its 
own  fury. 

Having  heard  that  a  handful  of  disciples  had 
found  an  asylum  in  Damascus,  Saul  journeyed 
northward,  breathing  forth  slaughter  and  penalty. 
Upon  the  road  to  Damascus  he  saw  the  heavenly 
vision,  and  was  at  first  terrified,  then  awakened, 
and  finally  transformed.  Going  into  the  deserts 
he  remained  for  three  years  studying  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  prophecies  concerning  the  coming  of  the 
Son  of  Man  and  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  He 
returned  to  Jerusalem  to  tell  his  story  before  the 
Sanhedrim.  Then  began  a  most  dramatic  career. 
He  came  to  know  the  inside  of  every  prison  of  the 
cities  about  the  Mediterranean.  Five  times  he  was 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


129 


arrested  and  convicted  of  attacking  the  gods,  now 
of  the  Greeks  and  now  of  the  Romans.  Five  times 
he  was  flogged  with  whips,  receiving  thirty-nine 
stripes,  and  three  times  he  was  beaten  with  rods. 
Once  he  was  stoned,  and  left  for  dead  in  the  streets 
of  Lystra.  Thrice  also  he  suffered  shipwreck,  and 
once  he  was  a  night  and  a  day  in  the  great  deep. 
He  suffered  perils  of  robbers,  perils  in  the  wilder¬ 
ness,  perils  in  the  city,  perils  among  spies  and 
traitors,  until  at  last  he  achieved  a  martyr’s  death, 
and  has  a  place  among  “  the  Immortals.” 

His  words  were  the  words  of  a  hero,  for  hero¬ 
ism  means  three  things,  an  unselfish  and  disinter¬ 
ested  spirit,  a  sincere  and  pure  heart,  and  a 
practical  common  sense  method  of  activity.  His 
last  words  are  revelatory  of  his  true  greatness. 
Bacon  said,  “  Men  are  not  worth  the  trouble  I  have 
taken  for  them.”  D’Annunzio  said,  “  Italy  is  not 
worth  dying  for.”  Turner  believed  that  he  “  gave 
society  a  loaf,  and  received  a  stone.”  Horace 
Greeley  said,  “  Fame  is  a  vapour,  those  who  praise 
today  will  curse  tomorrow.”  A  multi-millionaire 
dying,  the  other  day,  whispered,  “  Is  my  will  all 
right?”  But  Paul  did  not  care  a  straw  for  gold, 
nor  office,  nor  fame,  nor  pleasure,  and  his  last 
words  were,  “  I  have  kept  the  faith.”  Over  and 
over  again  he  exclaimed,  “  I  have  fought  a  good 
fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the 
faith” 

Heroism  is  contagious.  Fortitude,  faith  and 
self-sacrifice  spread  like  wildfire.  That  is  why  one 
great  man  can  save  a  city,  transform  a  generation, 
or  civilise  a  state.  Heroism  appeals  to  a  certain 


130 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


adventurous  note  in  youth.  On  Commencement 
Day  the  richly  dressed  advocate  of  some  corpora¬ 
tion  stretches  forth  his  hand,  and  calls  young  grad¬ 
uates  to  the  paths  of  ease  and  office  and  luxury, 
and  the  great  majority  give  immediate  response. 
His  call  is  in  vain.  Young  men,  who  represent 
unique  gifts,  will  decline  the  bribes  and  fill  their 
ears  with  wax  against  the  song  of  the  siren.  Then 
comes  some  Stanley,  saying,  “  I  want  to  cross 
Darkest  Africa,  along  the  line  of  the  Equator.  It 
is  foul  with  miasm,  full  of  pestilence,  holds  forests 
and  jungles,  with  wild  beasts  and  serpents  and 
poison  vipers.”  Now  that  appeal  to  the  spirit  of 
adventure  with  the  peril  of  death  will  be  responded 
to  by  ten  times  as  many  young  men  as  Stanley 
can  use. 

It  is  this  that  explains  Garibaldi’s  soldiers  when 
he  called  them  to  almost  certain  death.  Now  the 
story  of  Paul’s  heroism  traveled  all  around  the 
towns  and  cities  that  looked  out  upon  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean.  For  a  little  time  the  new  faith  escaped 
observation.  The  attitude  of  Imperial  Rome  was 
one  of  scorn  for  a  leader  whose  birthplace  was  a 
stable.  During  that  quiet  interval  the  young  Faith 
struck  its  roots  down  and  pushed  out  its  boughs. 
First  of  all,  peasants,  slaves  and  gladiators  went 
over  to  the  new  faith.  Then  the  soldiers  became 
interested.  One  day  the  patricians  in  the  palaces 
awakened  to  the  new  faith  and  then  the  Emperor 
decided  to  stamp  out  the  Christian  superstition. 
He  flung  upon  the  devoted  disciples  the  thunder¬ 
bolts  of  Rome.  Spies  secured  evidence  by  attend¬ 
ing  the  secret  midnight  meetings  of  the  disciples. 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


131 


and  soldiers,  like  a  ring  of  fire,  closed  in  on  the 
intrepid  band.  Some  were  driven  into  the  amphi¬ 
theatre,  where  wild  beasts  were  let  loose  upon 
them.  Nero  ordered  many  a  youth  and  maiden 
bound  to  stake  and  covered  with  straw,  oil  and 
pitch,  and  used  them  as  torches  for  his  garden 
parties. 

The  fury  of  the  Emperor  was  beyond  all  words. 
Many  a  St.  Sebastian  was  bound  to  a  tree  and 
made  a  target  for  flaming  arrows;  many  a  Per- 
petua  supported  her  dying  father,  at  the  risk  of  her 
own  limbs  and  life.  Did  anyone  falter?  “Re¬ 
member  Paul.”  Did  some  tender  boy  shiver  at  the 
flash  of  the  sword  of  an  executioner?  “  Think  of 
Paul  and  his  example.”  What  is  the  explanation 
of  the  early  Church’s  victory  in  its  conflict  with 
the  power  of  Rome?  The  heroic  spirit  of  Paul 
lighted  the  sacred  flames  of  faith  and  heroism  in 
the  young  disciples  and  their  flame  leaped  from 
altar  to  altar,  and  town  to  town!  The  blood  of 
the  martyrs  became  the  seed  of  the  Church,  and 
finally  the  heroism  of  Paul  won  the  victory. 

But  the  hero  who  is  willing  to  die  for  a  cause  is 
a  man  who  has  found  a  cause  worth  dying  for. 
Brave  deeds  do  not  come  by  chance.  Get  your 
Beatrice — Dante  is  inevitable.  Get  your  clover 
field,  and  do  not  worry  about  the  honey  bees,  they 
will  come.  Get  your  supreme  faith — that  faith 
will  evoke  heroes  to  defend  it.  The  difference  be¬ 
tween  the  pliable,  plastic,  wavering  Faint-Heart 
and  this  granite  man,  Paul,  is  that  Paul  had  found 
a  treasure  worth  fighting  for.  Fortunately,  he 
stated  his  faith  in  terms  simple  as  sunshine,  yet  as 


132 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


sharply  defined  as  the  outlines  of  a  mountain. 
Only  when  we  place  Paul's  speech  before  Agrippa 
beside  the  argument  of  Demosthenes,  in  his  own 
defense,  or  a  speech  of  Fox  or  Sheridan  before 
Parliament,  or  Fisher  Ames  against  the  British 
Governor,  do  we  realise  what  really  great  elo¬ 
quence  is.  “  Then  King  Agrippa  said  unto  Paul : 
*  Thou  art  permitted  to  speak  for  thyself,’  ”  and 
Paul  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  answered  for 
himself :  “  I  think  myself  happy’  King  Agrippa,  be¬ 
cause  I  shall  answer  for  myself  this  day  before 
thee,  touching  all  the  things  whereby  I  am  accused 
of  the  Jews;  especially  because  I  know  thee  to  be 
expert.”  (What  a  sure  touch  is  that !  How  widely 
does  Paul  swing  open  the  gate  of  intellectual  hospi¬ 
tality!  In  that  moment  he  gave  sops  to  the  dog 
Cerberus  that  guarded  the  gate  into  the  citadel  of 
the  soul  of  Agrippa  and  quieted  the  monster.)  “  In 
all  customs  and  questions  which  are  among  Jews; 
wherefore,  I  beseech  thee  to  hear  me  patiently. 
My  manner  of  life  from  my  youth  up  is  known  to 
all  the  Jews.  After  the  straitest  sect  of  our  re¬ 
ligion  I  lived  a  Pharisee.  Now  I  stand  and  am 
judged  by  the  hope  of  the  promise  made  of  God 
unto  our  fathers.” 

By  that  one  stroke  Paul,  as  if  by  a  touch  of 
magic,  made  Moses  and  Abraham,  and  Jacob  the 
prince,  David  the  poet,  and  Isaiah  the  prophet,  sud¬ 
denly  descend  from  the  clouds  and  stand  beside 
him,  until  the  very  genius  of  the  Hebrew  religion 
seemed  to  be  breaking  into  voice  upon  Paul’s  lips 
when  he  said:  “  For  which  hope’s  sake,  of  the  final 
victory,  of  the  law  and  the  prophets,  King  Agrippa, 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


133 


I  am  now  accused  by  the  sons  of  fathers  who 
themselves  kindled  this  hope  within  me.  And  now, 
O  King  Agrippa,  why  should  it  be  thought  a  thing 
incredible  with  you  that  God  should  raise  the  dead  ? 
Did  not  Job  declare  that  he  knew  that  his  Re¬ 
deemer  liveth,  and  that  at  the  last  day  he  would 
carry  away  upon  his  shoulders  the  gates  of  death 
and  set  man  free  ?  ” 

And  then  Paul  showed  Agrippa  the  king  and 
Festus  the  governor  that  every  promise  in  the  He¬ 
brew  law  and  prophets  had  been  fulfilled  in  the 
Teacher  of  Galilee.  It  was  a  very  simple  faith — 
God  is  our  Father,  men  who  have  worshipped  Him 
as  the  Unknown  may  now  see  the  veil  removed  and 
behold  His  face  of  light,  and  hear  His  words  of 
love,  and  lean  upon  arms  that  are  everlasting  in 
moments  when  the  earth  reels  beneath  the  feet  of 
the  pilgrim  and  the  fog  chokes  his  throat.  Paul 
revealed  God  as  the  all-suffering  God,  as  the  great¬ 
breasted  Father,  ever  abroad  by  night  and  day 
upon  His  mission  of  recovery;  a  God  who  was 
calling  all  His  children  upward  toward  wisdom  and 
knowledge,  toward  love  and  immortality.  These 
simple  faiths  were  as  clear  as  the  stars  and  as  bril¬ 
liant.  They  were  as  solid  as  the  mountains  and  as 
enduring.  From  this  supreme  faith  in  principles 
Paul  borrowed  his  courage,  his  endurance,  his  un¬ 
yielding  hope  of  ultimate  victory. 

Where  were  the  hidings  of  power  in  this  hero 
who,  single-handed,  assaulted  kingdoms,  overthrew 
fortresses  of  superstition  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  a  new  world?  The  answer  is  near  at  hand. 
Paul’s  greatness  was  rooted  in  a  personal  experi- 


134 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


ence  of  the  heavenly  vision  that  he  saw  on  the  way 
to  Damascus.  He  went  everywhither  telling  the 
story  of  what  his  own  eyes  had  seen,  what  his  own 
ears  had  heard,  and  what  his  heart  had  felt.  The 
fires  of  conviction  dwelt  in  his  words  as  heat  dwells 
in  the  sunbeam  and,  passing  through  a  sun-glass, 
sets  wood  on  fire.  Other  men  thought,  Paul  knew. 
Other  men  dreamed,  Paul  had  seen  and  heard.  In 
every  crisis,  before  the  scholars  of  Athens,  the 
mob  in  Ephesus,  the  Sanhedrim  in  Jerusalem, 
the  rulers  in  Rome,  he  had  but  one  story :  “  I  went 
to  Damascus  as  an  enemy,  and  breathed  forth 
slaughtering  and  hate.  Suddenly,  while  I  was  in 
the  way,  a  light  shone  forth,  and  I  found  that  I 
loved  the  disciples,  whom  hitherto  I  had  hated. 
Also  I  revolted  from  cruel  leaders  in  Jerusalem 
whom  hitherto  I  had  admired  and  obeyed.”  Then 
for  thirty  years  that  Jesus  whom  he  loved  and 
served  stood  beside  him  as  his  personal  leader, 
Saviour,  Guide  and  Friend. 

His  every  argument  began  with  this :  “  I  have 
not  been  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision.” 
Not  otherwise  every  new  era  for  the  Christian 
Church  has  been  ushered  in  by  some  man  who  has 
seen  a  vision  and  has  not  been  disobedient  thereto. 
Witness  Augustine,  redeemed  by  a  vision  out  of 
the  mire  and  pit  of  the  effeminate,  luxurious  and 
sensual  city  of  Rome.  Witness  Martin  Luther  in 
Rome  slowly  climbing  the  steps  upon  his  knees,  for 
whom  the  light  of  divine  love  flamed  forth!  Wit¬ 
ness  John  Wesley,  kneeling  to  pray  and  suddenly 
conscious  that  something  had  happened  in  his 
heart,  and  that  something  was  like  the  stealing  of 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


135 


a  sunbeam  into  a  room  and  falling  across  the  page 
of  an  open  book.  Witness  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
telling  the  story  of  Uncle  Tom  and  Aunt  Chloe  as 
she  had  seen  them  in  the  little  cabin  in  the  old 
Kentucky  home.  Witness  the  books  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  that  represent  the  memory  of  a  great 
spiritual  experience  that  enriched  a  thousand  pages 
of  writing.  In  the  self-same  way  the  sermons  of 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Horace  Bushnell  and  Phil¬ 
lips  Brooks  are  all  the  simple  story  of  the  way  of 
God  with  a  son,  now  in  the  forests  near  Indian¬ 
apolis,  now  in  the  student’s  room  in  the  seminary 
at  Alexandria.  Paul  knew  what  that  heavenly 
vision  had  done  for  him.  Joyously  he  welcomed 
the  heavenly  vision  and  hastened  to  obey  it,  and 
rapturously  he  told  his  story.  What  he  had  seen 
with  his  own  eyes  and  felt  wits  his  own  heart  he 
declared  unto  men.  The  greatness  of  this  hero 
was  the  greatness  of  God  in  his  heart. 

Paul’s  most  dramatic  appeal  was  made  unto  his 
own  countrymen.  He  was  not  only  the  most 
learned  and  the  most  brilliant,  but  the  bravest  rabbi 
of  his  time.  The  faith  of  Paul’s  fathers  was 
nearly  two  thousand  years  old.  That  ancient  faith 
burst  into'  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus  as 
naturally  as  the  root  bursts  into  full  flower  and 
fruit.  It  was  a  noble  faith — the  faith  of  Abraham, 
Isaac  and  Jacob,  of  Elijah  and  David,  of  Isaiah 
and  Malachi.  It  was  as  massive  as  a  cathedral,  as 
enduring  as  the  living  oak  of  Hebron,  as  rich  in 
memories  and  traditions  as  Westminster  Abbey, 
holding  the  dust  of  kings  and  scholars  for  hun¬ 
dreds  of  years.  Not  the  threshold  of  the  Parthe- 


136 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


non  was  so  sacred  as  the  threshold  of  that  beautiful 
temple,  where  Jesus,  the  tallest  figure  in  the  long 
line  of  prophets,  stood,  with  His  outstretched  arms, 
and  exclaimed,  “Oh,  Jerusalem!  Jerusalem!  thou 
that  killest  the  prophets  and  stonest  them  that  are 
sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered 
thee  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings,  and  ye  would  not.”  And  the  prophet  of 
Nazareth  was  their  prophet — the  Jews — and  the 
greatest  of  their  prophets.  Moses  said,  “  Thou 
shalt  not,”  Jesus  said  not,  and  “  Thou  shalt  not  ” — 
“  Thou  shalt  hope,  thou  shalt  love,  thou  shalt 
trust !  ”  When  Moses  had  slain  all  the  foul  weeds 
in  the  garden  of  the  soul,  Jesus  planted  the  roses 
and  the  lilies,  with  corn  for  man’s  hunger.  Moses 
said,  “  An  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  ” ; 
Jesus  said,  “  Thou  shalt  love  thine  enemies,  for 
God  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  the 
good,  and  sendeth  rain  upon  the  just  and  the  un¬ 
just.”  The  law  and  the  prophets  said,  “  The  wages 
of  sin  is  death,”  but  Jesus  said,  “  God  is  love  and 
has  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  is  lost.” 

What  kindness  to  little  children!  What  pity  to 
the  outcast!  What  tenderness  to  the  publican  and 
sinner!  How  wondrous  that  moment  when  He 
lifted  the  rags  from  the  beggar,  and  looked  up  at 
the  stars  and  whispered  a  great  hope.  It  was  His 
hand  that  opened  the  rift  in  yonder  sky.  What  a 
word  is  this  that  falls  through  the  silent  air :  “  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled.  In  My  Father’s  house 
are  many  mansions.”  The  Great  Nazarene  be¬ 
longed  to  the  Jews,  and  they  should  have  claimed 
and  followed  Him!  That  high  priest,  Caiaphas, 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


137 


should  have  been  the  first  bishop  of  the  Christian 
Church  in  Jerusalem.  Paul  should  have  been  the 
first  evangelist  ever  sent  out  by  the  Sanhedrim. 
Annas  should  have  flung  himself  between  Jesus 
and  the  mob  with  the  Roman  soldiers  and  Pilate, 
and  shouted,  “  You  shall  not  lift  Him  to  this 
cross!  You  shall  not  touch  one  hair  of  His  head 
while  any  Hebrew  rabbi  lives !  ”  And  Handel's 
Messiah  might  have  been,  and  should  have  been, 
the  symphony  of  the  Hebrew.  The  Jew  has  a 
great  stake  in  the  laws  of  Moses,  and  the  phi¬ 
losophy  of  Kant  and  Hegel;  in  the  music  of 
Beethoven  and  Mendelssohn.  But  his  greatest 
stake,  and  his  largest  investment  is  in  the  law  and 
the  prophets  that  are  root  and  trunk,  that  burst 
into  flower  and  fruit  in  Christ’s  evangel  of  love. 

There  cannot  be,  there  must  not  be,  any  hatred 
between  any  Jew  and  any  Gentile.  Of  late,  during 
these  dark  days,  one  has  many  times  wondered  why 
noble  Hebrew  scholars,  patriots  and  lovers  of  their 
fellow-men  have  not  claimed  the  Nazarene  as  the 
tallest  flower  that  ever  grew  in  their  Hebrew  gar¬ 
den.  As  the  mightiest  tree  that  ever  unfolded  its 
boughs  and  branches  in  God’s  divine  Eden!  As 
the  supreme  voice  that  rings  through  all  the  syna¬ 
gogues,  calling  men  not  only  to  law  but  to  love  and 
mercy.  Jesus  brought  the  world  a  new  thought  of 
God,  freedom,  love  and  immortality.  Those  who 
should  first  have  lifted  the  trumpets  upon  their 
lips  were  Jewish  musicians,  those  first  to  wave 
the  triumphal  banners  should  have  been  Jewish 
people;  those  who  lighted  the  flames  of  the  sacred 
fires  should  have  been  the  hands  of  Hebrews.  The 


138 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


pierced  hands  of  the  Nazarene  prophet  never  made 
a  wound,  though  He  healed  many;  never  extin¬ 
guished  a  torch,  though  He  kindled  many  a  light  to 
shine  into  the  dark  night;  never  plucked  hope  out 
of  a  human  heart,  though  He  planted  many  an 
aspiration. 

And  the  first  people  on  earth  to  walk  in  His 
triumphal  procession  should  have  been  the  He¬ 
brews,  walking  in  the  vanguard,  while  the  rest  of 
us  followed  as  captives  in  His  triumphal  proces¬ 
sion,  up  the  hills  of  time.  Sooner  or  later  the  mists 
will  pass,  the  clouds  will  dissolve. 

Many  mistakes  have  been  made  on  both  sides 
during  the  last  thousand  years;  many  crimes  nave 
been  committed,  but  the  Nazarene  was  right — 
across  the  gory  battlefields  of  time,  above  all 
the  din  and  tumult  of  the  struggle,  there  rises 
one  clear  voice  saying,  “  Let  not  your  heart  be 
troubled.'’  Sooner  or  later  love  will  be  victorious 
over  hate,  liberty  will  conquer  oppression,  God  will 
arise  and  by  mercy  subdue  all  His  enemies.  And 
first  among  His  followers  in  that  great  day  of  this 
immortal  hope  shall  be  Paul,  the  brilliant  Hebrew 
rabbi,  the  noblest  hero  and  the  whitest  saint  of  all 
the  centuries! 

But  there  is  a  faith  of  the  fathers,  the  Republic 
and  its  free  institutions,  that  must  be  kept.  Each 
week  brings  fresh  revelations  of  traitors  who  have 
betrayed  the  faith  of  the  founders  of  our  Republic. 
In  Western  Pennsylvania  one  hears  about  the 
burning  of  four  million  dollars’  worth  of  buildings 
- — school  houses,  churches,  homes,  stores  and  farm¬ 
ers’  granaries.  Is  this  a  secret  organisation  whose 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


139 


members  believe,  as  do  Bolsheviks,  that  everything 
must  be  burned  to  the  ground,  and  then  built  up 
again  by  believers  in  the  Soviet  form  of  gov¬ 
ernment?  Anarchists?  Yes.  Nihilists?  Yes. 
Bolsheviks?  Yes.  But,  essentially,  men  who  live 
from  the  hand  to  the  stomach,  men  who  no  longer 
believe  in  any  God,  or  future  life,  or  responsibility 
for  the  deeds  done  in  the  body. 

But  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  Look  at  these 
foreigners,  after  a  week  at  Ellis  Island.  Mark  the 
revolution  in  the  physical  conditions  of  the  island, 
with  buildings  kept  spotlessly  clean,  playgrounds 
for  children,  a  nursery  for  the  little  ones,  and 
cleanly  wards  for  the  sick.  But  scarcely  have  these 
immigrants  left  Ellis  Island  than  they  receive  in 
various  languages  the  poison  of  anarchy  and  revo¬ 
lution  which  is  instilled  into  the  mind  and  heart. 
We  have  a  daily  paper  in  New  York  published  in 
English,  and  also  in  German.  The  sentiments  in 
English  represent  vague  anti-Americanism,  and  the 
sentiments  in  the  foreign  language  represent  trea¬ 
son  to  this  Republic.  Scarcely  have  these  foreign¬ 
ers  landed  at  the  railroad  stations,  than  they 
receive  a  card  published  in  six  languages  contain¬ 
ing  essentially  these  statements :  “  Immigrants,  re¬ 
member  that  this  is  a  capitalistic  government. 
Remember  it  is  a  dirty  and  a  rotten  government, 
where  the  capitalist  will  exploit  your  life.  The 
only  way  you  can  get  a  job  is  to  join  a  radical 
society  or  union  Join  some  revolutionary  society, 
and  help  us  overthrow  this  wicked,  capitalistic 
government.” 

But  what  men  sow’  they  reap.  Sow  wheat — you 


140 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS 


reap  sheaves.  Sow  thistles,  you  reap  thistles.  Sow 
sparks,  you  reap  conflagrations.  Sow  hatred  of 
this  Republic,  you  reap  revolution.  There  is  one 
race  in  this  country  that,  to  every  one  crime 
committed  by  the  native  American,  commits  ten 
crimes  per  thousand  citizens.  There  is  another 
foreign  people,  new  in  this  country,  that  commits 
eight  crimes  where  a  native  American  commits 
one.  This  Republic  cannot  exist,  half  American 
and  half  alien.  Either  Americanism  must  expel 
anti-Americanism,  or  the  anti-American  sentiment 
will  Bolshevise  our  people  and  destroy  our  Repub¬ 
lic.  Soon  for  all  parents  and  patriots  and  teachers, 
the  end  shall  come,  just  as  Paul  knew  that  his 
execution  was  set  for  the  following  day.  In  re¬ 
viewing  his  life,  he  exclaimed,  as  he  anticipated 
meeting  Jesus,  “  I  have  kept  the  faith !  ”  But 
have  you  kept  the  faith  of  the  American  school? 
Have  you  flattered  men  to  win  their  votes,  and 
debauched  the  voters  of  your  city?  Has  your 
service  been  venial,  selfish  ?  Have  you  lowered  the 
ideals  of  patriotism?  Have  you  been  what  is 
called  a  practical  politician  ?  Have  you  helped  elect 
men  as  judges,  using  money,  because  later  on  they 
could  be  influenced  to  give  an  occasional  decision 
worth  much  money  to  those  who  paid  their  election 
bills?  Have  you  betrayed  the  Church,  the  Sunday 
and  the  family  itself?  Many  of  you  are  in  the 
afternoon  of  life’s  day.  Already  the  shadows  are 
falling  lower.  Soon  the  end  will  come.  Be 
wise  while  it  is  yet  time.  Give  yourselves  in 
loyalty  to  the  great  convictions.  When  the  end 
comes,  and  you  go  into  the  great  company  of 


FAITH  WITH  OUR  FATHERS  141 

immortals,  see  to  it,  that  in  that  hour  when  all 
noble  ancestors  are  turned  toward  you,  that  you 
are  able  to  lift  your  hand  and  say  without  fear: 
“  I  have  kept  the  faith  of  my  country,  I  have 
kept  the  faith  of  my  friends,  I  have  kept  the  faith 
of  God,  and  His  dear  Son,  who  is  the  Saviour  of 
the  world.” 


X 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 

"  Where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt” — Matt.  vi :  19. 

THE  story  of  lost  riches  of  past  generations 
makes  a  most  fascinating  page  in  history. 
For  centuries  the  various  races  who  lived 
about  the  Mediterranean  accumulated  gold,  silver 
and  precious  stones,  and  then  hid  treasure  boxes 
filled  to  overflowing.  Long  afterward  the  Roman 
emperors  looted  Carthage  and  Alexandria,  Athens 
and  Corinth,  Ephesus  and  Jerusalem.  In  the 
fourth  century,  Alaric  and  his  Goths  heard  the 
story  of  “  The  Golden  House  ”  and  started  across 
the  Alps  to  loot  Rome.  They  found  in  the  treasure 
house  of  the  Emperor  tables  of  “  solid  emerald,” 
the  Missorium,  a  dish  weighing  2,500  pounds,  cov¬ 
ered  with  the  richest  gems  of  India.  One  day 
Alaric  and  his  men  encamped  around  the  walls  of 
Ravenna  and  waited  for  the  citizens  within  to 
starve  and  die,  as  wolves  wait  around  the  dying 
buffalo.  “  What  terms  will  you  make?”  asked 
the  messenger,  of  Alaric,  and  the  Goth  answered, 
“  All  your  gold,  all  your  silver,  all  the  best  of  your 
precious  things,  and  all  your  barbarian  slaves.” 
“  What,  then,  will  you  leave  us  ?  ”  asked  the  en¬ 
voy.  “  Your  lives,”  was  the  scornful  answer. 

So  the  citizens  bought  Alaric  off  with  this  ran- 

142 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  143 


som:  “Five  thousand  pounds  weight  of  gold  in 
bars,  thirty  thousand  pounds  of  silver,  three  thou¬ 
sand  bolts  of  scarlet  cloth,  four  thousand  rolls  of 
silk.”  Long  afterward  the  Arabs  captured  from 
Alaric’s  successor  that  emerald  table,  with  its  three 
rows  of  great  pearls.  What  has  become  of  all  that 
treasure?  Diamonds  are  practically  indestructible, 
and  so  are  gold  and  silver,  with  rubies  and  emer¬ 
alds  and  sapphires.  It  is  wood  and  iron  and  stone 
that  perish.  Where  are  those  great  nuggets  of 
gold  that  Solomon  brought  from  Ophir?  Where 
are  all  the  diamonds  that  were  taken  out  of  the 
white  sands  of  Golconda,  from  which  came  the 
Kohinoor  and  the  Great  Mogul?  Many  of  these 
diamonds,  doubtless,  are  in  use  today,  while  upon 
some  of  the  old  gold  there  may  be  stamped  the 
image  and  superscription  of  a  new  president  or 
king.  When  Alaric  died,  under  the  walls  of 
Cosenza,  twenty  thousand  Goths  turned  the  river 
bed  into  a  new  channel,  and  in  the  old  one  they  set 
Alaric,  armed  and  sitting  upright  upon  his  horse, 
and  covered  with  gold  and  jewels,  and  then  they 
turned  back  the  river  into  its  old  bed.  To  this  day 
no  man  knows  where  Alaric  lies  or  whether  the 
treasure  was  washed  out  to  the  sea  or  has  sunken 
in  slime  and  mud.  Doubtless  vast  quantities  of 
these  jewels  were  hidden  from  time  to  time,  while 
the  few  who  knew  the  hiding-place  were  slain  by 
enemies  or  perished  through  plague.  The  Span¬ 
iards  alone  are  believed  to  have  taken  several  hun¬ 
dreds  of  tons  of  silver  and  of  gold  out  of  the  store¬ 
houses  and  mines  of  Peru  and  Mexico.  Dumas 
makes  his  greatest  novel  turn  upon  the  burial  of 


144  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


the  gold  and  jewels  of  an  Italian  prince,  and  his¬ 
torians  hold  that  the  lost  riches  of  the  world  were 
buried  by  men  who  lost  their  lives  rather  than  give 
up  the  precious  secret. 

Great  riches  must  abound  whenever  youth  is  not 
neglected.  “  Spread  wide  thy  mantle  while  the 
gods  rain  gold/’  is  the  Persian  proverb.  That 
noble  sage  looked  upon  youth  as  a  rich  mine  of 
gold.  All  things  are  possible  during  the  days  when 
the  heart  is  young.  Youth  has  the  physical 
strength  to  grasp  the  tool,  to  open  the  furrows  and 
sow  the  seed,  to  master  the  chisel,  the  pen  or  brush, 
and  youth  also  has  a  vast  realm  of  futurity  in 
which  to  toil.  Time  is  the  stuff  out  of  which  the 
intellect  and  will  build  the  structure  of  life  and 
success.  In  youth,  also,  the  intellect  is  alert, 
nimble,  and  hungry  for  facts.  In  youth  the 
memory  is  quick  and  sensitive  like  molten  glass 
that  soon  hardens  into  permanent  form.  In  youth, 
also,  ambition  for  excellence,  with  passionate  as¬ 
pirations,  sweep  through  the  heart  with  the  maj¬ 
esty  of  a  summer’s  storm.  Middle  age  may  mean 
September,  and  the  period  when  the  soul  assembles 
its  harvest,  but  every  harvest  field  has  to  be  pre¬ 
pared  for  by  a  sowing  in  April,  and  a  cultivation 
in  May  and  June.  A  prosperous  old  age  is  simply 
the  place  where  youth  assembles  the  fruitage  of 
its  long  toil. 

Many  a  successful  man  has  found  his  last  years 
embittered  by  the  neglect  and  the  follies  of  his 
youth.  That  was  a  wise  and  illuminating  article 
published  by  that  author  who  exclaimed,  “  Oh ! 
that  I  could  live  my  life  over  again  and  begin  anew 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  145 


at  twenty-one.”  The  genius  of  his  argument  is 
this:  That  Nature  became  the  ally  of  every  grain 
of  corn  planted,  and  that  land  and  sea  and  sky 
worked  while  the  sower  slept,  and,  working,  Na¬ 
ture  spent  one  hundred  and  fifty  days  in  turning  a 
tiny  grain  of  corn  into  a  tall  stalk.  “  Accumulate 
in  the  teens  a  thousand  useful  facts  and  principles 
that  they  may  grow  into  a  rich  harvest  when  the 
forties  and  fifties  come.”  Invested  at  compound 
interest,  the  little  treasure,  assisted  by  long  time, 
becomes  great  wealth.  Concerning  a  poet,  Cole¬ 
ridge  once  said  that  “  No  man  ever  became  a 
singer  after  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age.” 
Coleridge  might  have  extended  the  principle  in 
such  a  way  as  to  explain  the  tragedy  of  his  own 
career  by  saying,  “  No  man  can  live  happily  and 
prosperously  in  middle  age  who  cannot  look  peace¬ 
fully  and  joyously  back  to  his  youth.”  One  of  the 
saddest  chapters  in  literature  holds  the  words  of 
that  broken-down,  Hebrew  Croesus  named  King 
Solomon.  The  memories  of  his  years  were  full 
of  remorse  and  bitterness,  and  he  therefore  as¬ 
sembled  before  his  thought  all  the  children  in  his 
kingdom,  and  charged  them  with  poignant  elo¬ 
quence  to  remember  their  Creator  in  the  days  of 
their  youth,  lest  the  evil  days  come,  when  matur¬ 
ity  and  old  age  have  no  pleasure  in  the  beauty  of 
the  days  or  the  silent  majesty  of  the  nights,  since 
prince  and  peasant  alike  must  give  their  account 
unto  God. 

That  youth  also  loses  great  riches  who  neglects 
adversity  and  necessity,  as  teachers  of  the  science 
of  manhood.  Many  parents  spend  their  whole 


146  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


lives  trying  to  accumulate  enough  property  to  re¬ 
lease  their  children  from  the  necessity  of  thrift, 
prudence  and  economy,  and  so  become  the  uncon¬ 
scious  enemies  of  the  very  children  whom  they 
love  as  they  love  life  itself.  Power  to  use  and  to 
enjoy  comes  from  the  power  to  create  the  thing 
possessed.  The  Greek  athlete  carried  the  calf  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  then  as  the  calf  grew,  he  daily 
lifted  the  burden  to  his  shoulders,  and  so  at  length 
carried  a  bullock  around  the  arena.  One  of  the 
reasons  why  many  a  man  who  falls  heir  to  a  for¬ 
tune  is  unable  to  keep  the  treasure  is,  that  he  did 
not  have  the  strength  to  produce  the  riches  he 
could  not  use. 

In  New  York  stands  a  rich  man’s  house.  The 
owner,  a  man  of  twenty-nine,  carries  eternal  youth 
in  his  mind  and  heart.  In  the  great  apartment  in 
which  he  lives  are  perhaps  forty  old  historic  Italian 
masterpieces.  Every  one  has  been  verified  by 
Italian  and  French  experts,  who  have  given  their 
entire  career  to  the  study  of  some  three  or  four 
hundred  Italian  masterpieces.  From  his  childhood 
the  owner  has  had  this  consuming  passion  for 
Italian  paintings !  When  he  was  scarcely  five  years 
of  age  his  father  fell  on  evil  times  and  dire  mis¬ 
fortune.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  about  six. 
The  boy  sold  newspapers,  ran  errands,  and  on  cold 
and  bitter  days  slipped  into  the  saloon  or  store  to 
warm  his  hands  and  feet  against  the  chill  of  win¬ 
ter.  Little  by  little  he  came  to  read  the  faces  of 
men  as  so  many  open  books.  He  knew  what  men 
were  selfish  and  avaricious;  he  knew  the  signs  of 
weakness  and  cruelty,  he  knew  when  men  were 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  147 


telling  him  lies,  and  also  when  men's  words  rang 
true.  In  his  early  teens,  wearing  the  garb  of  a 
miner,  one  day  the  boy  appeared  at  Andover  Acad¬ 
emy.  All  the  education  he  had,  had  been  gained 
by  reading  in  the  light  of  a  candle  before  breakfast 
and  after  dark.  When  asked  if  he  were  ready  to 
take  the  examinations  for  entrance  he  answered 
that  he  did  not  so  much  as  know  what  an  exami¬ 
nation  was.  Noble  teachers  allowed  the  boy  to 
enter  the  class  and  listen,  getting  what  he  could, 
and  within  a  year  this  youth  was  tutoring  other 
boys  in  his  class. 

Going  to  Yale,  he  founded  a  little  industry,  with 
which  he  earned  enough  to  carry  himself  through 
college.  Then  came  the  years  in  the  Philippine 
Islands,  the  organisation  of  a  great  industry,  his 
selection  as  president  thereof,  and  finally  his  ele¬ 
vation  to  control  by  one  of  the  great  firms  in  Eng¬ 
land.  Now  one  part  of  his  income  is  being  used 
for  the  support  of  schools,  teachers,  physicians, 
ministers,  in  the  Far  East,  while  the  other  part  is 
used  for  the  purchase  of  old  Italian  masterpieces 
whenever  a  great  painting  comes  upon  the  market, 
through  the  exigency  of  war,  for  the  Italian  prince 
merchant  in  whose  family  the  painting  has  been 
held  for  several  hundred  years.  What  courage  in 
this  poor  boy!  What  fortitude!  What  strength 
of  will!  What  initiative !  No  one  who  knows  this 
youth  well  can  doubt  but  that  he  is  to  have  an 
even  larger  place  in  the  future  financial  life  of  the 
Republic.  An  orphan  at  six,  at  seven  a  little  waif, 
drifting  through  the  streets  of  a  mining  town  in 
Pennsylvania,  in  retrospect  those  twelve  years 


148  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


when  the  boy  held  heartbreak  at  bay  are  seen  to 
have  been  a  school  for  training  his  talents.  Just 
as  Aladdin  went  down  into  a  cave  to  bring  up  the 
jewels,  so  this  youth  brought  his  treasure  up  from 
poverty,  squalour,  ignorance  and  suffering.  By 
wrestling  he  grew  strong  and  by  self-reliance  he 
made  himself  great. 

Men  who  think  meanly  of  themselves  and  their 
own  gifts  lose  great  riches.  The  ancient  races  em¬ 
phasised  the  pride  of  ancestry.  The  Hebrew  king 
traced  his  blood  back  to  a  noble  ancestor,  and 
claimed  to  be  the  descendant  of  Abraham,  Isaac 
and  Jacob,  just  as  the  men  of  Athens  boasted  that 
they  were  descended  from  the  goddess  Pallas 
Athene,  or  as  the  Romans  claimed  that  they  were 
descended  from  that  divine  parent,  H^neas.  Of 
the  twelve  disciples,  the  most  gifted  was  John. 
That  beloved  youth  often  spoke  of  his  fellow- 
fishermen  as  “  sons  of  God.”  Remembering  that 
wonderful  Teacher  with  whom  he  lived  during 
three  wonderful  years,  the  beloved  pupil  developed 
a  certain  weight  of  character  and  influence.  At 
last  as  he  walked  through  the  streets  he  was  as 
one  conscious  of  the  imperial  palace  from  whence 
he  came,  and  his  own  divine  splendour  and  origin. 
Selfishness  is  an  inward  looking  quality  that  de¬ 
bases,  shrivels,  and  finally  paralyzes  the  soul,  but 
the  spirit  of  selflessness  aiming  at  service,  is  an 
outward  looking  quality  and  opens  up  gateways 
toward  greatness.  It  was  this  selflessness  that 
made  Lincoln  a  student  by  day  and  night;  that 
made  John  Bright  an  investigator  of  the  poverty 
of  the  factory  classes  of  England;  that  made 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  149 

Charles  Dickens  turn  every  whither  in  search  of 
arguments  and  weapons  against  Squeers  and 
Gamp  and  Bumble,  and  in  defense  of  poor 
Smike,  doomed  to  be  a  drudge  and  a  slave  to 
others.  The  mission  of  our  earth  is  to  produce 
great  men,  who  toil  tirelessly  for  wisdom  and  skill 
in  the  art  and  profession  with  which  they  may 
serve  others.  Every  new  era  is  ushered  in  for 
society  by  a  new  son  of  God,  who  has  borrowed 
divine  wisdom  from  an  unseen  Father  and  so 
comes  to  walk  the  earth  a  true  shepherd  of  multi¬ 
tudes,  a  true  builder  of  states.  Beside  every 
cathedral  stands  a  great  architect.  Beside  every 
new  engine  or  loom  stands  a  great  inventor.  Be¬ 
side  every  body  of  law  stands  some  Moses,  some 
Justinian,  some  Marshall.  Society  receives  its 
Principia  from  the  hand  of  a  great  mathematician, 
its  Constitution  from  the  hand  of  a  great  states¬ 
man.  The  mission  of  the  State,  therefore,  is  the 
production  of  great  souls. 

Today,  as  never  before,  our  Government  is  try¬ 
ing  to  make  parents,  physicians,  teachers  and  states¬ 
men  realise  the  importance  of  a  healthier  race  and 
a  sounder  body,  as  the  instrument  of  a  sound  mind. 
Our  scientists  have  perfected  the  thermometer  that 
tests  the  temperature  of  the  room.  Not  otherwise 
have  they  completed  certain  tests  of  mentality,  until 
we  now  know  to  a  nicety  just  how  many  objects 
lying  upon  a  table  can  be  remembered  by  the 
average  normal  child  of  five  years,  of  ten  years,  of 
fifteen  years  or  of  twenty  years.  After  these  ten 
or  twelve  tests  have  been  given,  the  expert  will 
give  you  the  exact  mentality  of  the  youth,  and 


150  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


show  you  his  place  in  the  scale  of  life.  One  of  the 
amazing  things  in  the  reports  of  the  physical  ex¬ 
aminations  of  six  million  young  men,  two  million 
of  whom  went  abroad,  two  million  of  whom  were 
drilled  at  home,  and  two  million  of  whom  were  re¬ 
jected,  was  the  discovery  that  more  than  a  third 
of  them,  with  the  years  of  the  soldier  for  the 
draft,  had  the  mentality  of  the  normal  child  of 
eleven  years  of  age. 

Now  the  child  of  eleven  derives  its  knowledge 
from  seeing  and  hearing  and  tasting,  as  well  as 
from  conversation  and  play.  The  child  of  eleven 
does  not  think,  in  the  sense  of  analysing  and  com¬ 
paring  things  that  are  alike  and  contrasting  things 
that  are  different.  These  physicians  discovered 
that  one-third  of  our  people  are  content  to  put  their 
hands  to  the  spade  or  to  perform  routine  work, 
and  are  unwilling  to  disturb  their  minds  with  plans 
for  a  better  tool,  a  better  law  or  a  juster  liberty. 
Now  and  then,  perhaps,  some  crisis,  some  violent 
upheaval  may  startle  the  sleeper,  as  the  blast  of 
the  trumpet  startles  the  soldier  from  his  slumbers, 
but  it  seems  certain  that  millions  of  our  people 
represent  latent  treasure,  buried  riches,  resources 
that  will  remain  in  them  as  gold  undug  and  silver 
unsmelted.  It  may  be  that  there  is  some  little  con¬ 
gestion  in  the  brain,  some  nerve,  some  clog  in  a 
hidden  vein,  some  obstruction  that  inhibits  think¬ 
ing,  and  makes  it  certain  that  for  the  immediate 
future  at  least  there  will  be  millions  of  contented 
folk,  who  shrink  from  mental  exertion,  physical 
labour,  and  all  these  represent  a  form  of  buried 
riches  and  hidden  treasure. 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  151 


Whenever  love  is  neglected,  whenever  friend¬ 
ship  is  passed  by,  great  riches  for  society  is  thrown 
away.  Not  many  are  born  with  the  gift  of  friend¬ 
ship!  Affection  is  a  birth  gift  from  God  and  one’s 
fathers,  just  as  music  is  a  gift,  just  as  painting,  or 
literary  style  are  gifts,  ancestral.  Not  many 
Platos!  Not  many  Shakespeares !  Paul  was  a  dis¬ 
interested  lover  of  his  fellow-men.  With  exultant 
joy  he  broke  the  alabaster  box  of  his  love  upon  the 
head  of  the  gladiator,  the  slave  and  the  outcast. 
To  a  far  greater  degree  Jesus  was  the  universal 
Lover,  who  had  the  enthusiasm  of  love,  the  passion 
for  service.  Jesus’s  love  for  the  poor  and  weak 
was  like  that  of  some  Dante  for  the  noble  girl, 
Beatrice;  like  some  master’s  love  for  his  eager 
pupil;  like  some  mother’s  love  for  a  child  that  has 
suffered  illness  or  accident.  The  miracles  of  Jesus 
were  really  bounties  and  gifts  to  the  heart-broken. 
Being  rich  of  mind  and  heart,  Jesus  gave  like  a 
prince,  and  went  up  and  down  the  land  like  a  band 
of  music,  like  a  walking  oasis,  like  an  organised 
treasure  city,  and  the  gates  turned,  were  open  day 
and  night.  And  above  every  granary,  and  store¬ 
house,  and  library,  He  wrote  these  words,  “  Take 
what  you  will.”  Therefore  the  common  people 
heard  Plim  gladly,  and  pressed  and  thronged  about 
His  person  to  hear  His  marvelous  words.  The 
poor  are  like  the  children — they  know  their 
friends. 

Frienaship  is  a  very  delicate  blossom.  It  hides 
its  fragrance  like  the  arbutus.  Its  perfume  is  de¬ 
tected  before  the  flower  is  uncovered.  All  friend¬ 
ship  is  an  exchange  of  gifts.  The  selfish  have  no 


152  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


friends.  Those  who  give,  demanding  as  much  or 
more  in  return,  are  like  the  frost  which  falls  upon 
the  blossoms  to  blacken  and  to  blight.  It  is  the 
friendliness  of  the  clouds  bestowing  rain  that 
evokes  mist  from  the  sea,  gladly  returning  the 
treasure  to  the  giver.  In  May,  the  soil  lends  food 
and  sap  to  bough  and  branch,  and  in  October  the 
boughs  return  the  leaves  to  refresh  the  soil  and 
enrich  the  giver  of  its  own  good.  Many  stand  in 
old  age  bewildered,  wondering  why  it  is  that  they 
are  unloved  and  uncared  for.  Unconsciously  they 
are  like  a  neglected  orchard,  whose  fruit  is  choked 
by  wild  growths  and  poisoned  with  moths  and 
ruined  by  caterpillars,  and  all  because  there  was  no 
kind  hand  to  care  for  blossoms  and  fruit.  Alas  for 
the  man  who  wishes  friends  but  who  refuses  to 
show  himself  friendly!  Who  asks  everything  and 
gives  nothing!  One  by  one  our  friends  depart, 
and  every  day,  therefore,  new  friends  must  be 
made,  old  friendships  kept  in  repair,  and  through 
service  life  must  be  made  rich.  That  man  with  his 
one  talent  wrapped  the  gift  in  a  napkin  and  buried 
it,  and  merited  the  rebuke  that  Jesus  gave. 

Much  of  the  treasure  of  society  is  lost  also 
through  men  who  are  outwardly  rich  but  inwardly 
poor  towards  God.  All  these  had  no  skill  in  ruling 
their  gold  and  compelling  it  to  serve.  It  has  often 
been  said  that  what  God  thinks  of  money  is  set 
forth  in  the  selfishness  of  the  men  to  whom  He 
gives  it,  but  this  is,  sometimes,  an  unjust  proverb. 
At  rare  intervals  only  are  the  heirs  of  great  wealth 
able  to  keep  the  treasure,  much  less  to  increase  the 
fortune.  England’s  laws  of  primogeniture  repre- 


THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD  153 

sent  an  organised  attempt  to  make  it  impossible  for 
the  son  to  waste  the  inheritance  that  really  belongs 
to  his  descendants.  Nothing  is  harder  to  explain 
than  the  progressive  hardening  of  the  heart  and 
freezing  of  the  sensibilities  until  a  man  who  in  his 
youth,  when  he  had  but  little,  shared  his  treasures, 
yet  in  his  old  age  clings  so  tightly  to  his  dollars 
that  you  cannot  separate  him  therefrom.  Some  of 
these  men  live  and  die  in  the  delusion  that  they  at 
last  have  solved  the  problem  how  to  carry  wealth 
on  across  the  River  of  Death  into  another  world. 

But  money  is  of  no  value  unless  it  works  in 
society  as  leaven  in  the  meal.  To  collect  and  keep 
money  for  its  own  sake,  without  using  it  to  send 
one  boy  to  college  and  another  into  mission  work, 
without  educating  the  girl  in  music  or  teaching, 
without  bearing  the  burdens  of  the  poor,  is  as  irra¬ 
tional  as  for  a  musician  to  collect  millions  of  sheets 
of  music  without  taking  the  trouble  to  learn  how 
to  play ;  it  is  as  silly  as  for  an  artist  to  collect  hun¬ 
dreds  of  thousands  of  brushes  and  tubes  of  paint 
without  ever  beginning  a  canvas.  What  if  some 
rich  merchant  should  lay  water  pipes  up  the  moun¬ 
tain  side  to  a  great  spring  that  flows  by  day  and 
by  night,  and  then,  when  the  water  is  bubbling  at 
the  faucet  and  the  thirsty  workmen  and  the  chil¬ 
dren  have  brought  their  cups,  what  if  the  old  cur¬ 
mudgeon  should  say,  “  Get  away  from  here !  I 
have  no  water  for  you !  ”  In  refusing  to  fill  that 
cup,  he  has  not  saved  a  drop  of  water.  For  when 
the  faucet  is  shut  off,  the  water  rises  in  th^  far-off 
reservoir  and  overflows  and  wastes  itself  on  the 
hillside.  Moses  told  the  people  that  manna  was 


154  THE  LOST  RICHES  OF  THE  WORLD 


given  for  one  day,  while  manna  hoarded  for  to¬ 
morrow  spoiled  before  the  tomorrow  came!  Thus 
gold  is  to  be  used  and  not  hoarded  for  later  gener¬ 
ations.  Cicero  was  right :  “  Kindness  and  love 
makes  gold  to  shine,  makes  riches  splendid/’ 


XI 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 

“And  if  Christ  be  not  ...  we  are  of  all  men  most 
pitiable.”— I  Cor.  xv:  17,  19. 

SEVERAL  authors,  with  varying  skill,  have 
written  books  on  the  condition  of  the  world 
if  Christ  had  never  been.  Every  one  is 
familiar  with  Jean  Paul’s  dream  of  the  children, 
coming  into  the  church  and  sobbing  out  their  sor¬ 
row  because  there  is  no  Christ,  and  no  Christmas, 
and  that  all  alike  are  orphans.  Henry  Rogers 
wrote  a  book  called  The  Eclipse  of  faith,  in  which 
he  imagines  that  some  powerful  hand  has  wiped 
the  influence  of  Christ  out  of  civilisation,  as  some 
hand  wipes  the  chalk  writing  from  the  blackboard 
of  the  schoolroom.  This  brilliant  author  repre¬ 
sents  himself  as  going  into  his  library  to  discover 
that  every  vestige  of  Christ’s  life  and  words  has 
wholly  disappeared.  He  opens  his  law  books,  upon 
the  legal  safeguards  protecting  children  in  the 
poorhouses,  the  orphans,  the  chimney-sweeps,  the 
boys  in  the  coal  mines,  the  poor  in  tenements,  the 
slaves  everywhere,  and  lo,  all  these  laws  have  dis¬ 
appeared,  leaving  paragraphs  blank  in  some  law 
books,  with  here  and  there  whole  pages,  and  in¬ 
deed,  entire  chapters  entirely  blank,  until  what  is 
left  in  the  code  is  meaningless  jargon.  Alarmed, 

155 


156  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


he  turned  to  his  histories  of  art,  and  where  the 
Transfiguration  had  been  he  found  a  blank  page, 
and  to  the  galleries,  but  instead  of  the  Sistine  Ma¬ 
donna  of  Raphael  and  the  Bcce  Homo  of  Guido 
Reni,  and  Rembrandt’s  Prodigal  Son,  with  thou¬ 
sands  of  other  masterpieces,  he  found  only  empty 
frames. 

Turning  to  the  greatest  poems  of  Dante  and  Mil- 
ton,  of  Wordsworth  and  Tennyson  and  Browning, 
he  found  nothing  but  empty  leaves  with  the  num¬ 
ber  of  the  page  at  the  top.  Having  long  loved 
architecture  with  a  great  passion,  his  thoughts 
flew  to  St.  Peter’s  in  Rome,  to  Milan  and  Cologne 
and  Westminster  Abbey,  and  lo,  nothing  remained 
there  but  great  cellars,  for  when  the  Cross  went, 
the  cathedrals  fashioned  in  the  form  of  that  Cross, 
perished  also.  And  then  it  was  that  Rogers  real¬ 
ised  that  if  Christ  had  never  been,  the  schools,  the 
hospitals,  the  beautiful  philanthropies,  the  mis¬ 
sions,  so  beneficent  in  their  influence  at  home  and 
abroad,  would  all  perish,  as  if  shaken  down  by 
some  cosmic  earthquake.  Then  this  lawyer  cried 
out  that  he  would  not  want  to  live  at  all  in  a  world 
where  Christ  had  never  been. 

Be  the  reasons  what  they  may,  there  are  men 
today,  who  propose  a  revolution  against  Jesus  in 
thought  and  life.  What,  if  in  the  stress  of  a  great 
crisis,  representatives  of  the  nations  of  the  earth 
should  meet  together,  ostensibly  to  destroy  war  and 
organise  a  universal  peace?  But  when  the  chair¬ 
man  of  the  conference  begins  his  opening  ad¬ 
dress,  however,  everyone  notices  the  cynical  look 
upon  his  face  and  the  bitter  note  that  has  crept 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  157 


into  his  voice.  Perhaps  the  burden  of  his  argu¬ 
ment  has  to  do  with  the  economic  wastes  of 
Christian  sympathy.  He  makes  a  plea  against  the 
industrial  losses  incident  to  Christ’s  story  of  the 
Good  Samaritan.  He  estimates  that  our  gener¬ 
ation  would  save  fifteen  to  twenty  percent  by  com¬ 
ing  out  boldly  for  the  anarchistic  principle  of  every 
fellow  for  himself  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost. 
He  urges  that  the  weak  have  no  right  to  survive 
and  ought  to  go  to  the  wall ;  that  it  is  an  outrage 
for  the  strong  to  be  made  unhappy  by  carrying  the 
burdens  of  the  weak.  “  Look  abroad  over  the 
world — everywhere  this  Galilaean’s  baneful  in¬ 
fluence  is  found.  Why  should  the  poorly  born  not 
die  today,  since  they  must  die  tomorrow?  Why 
should  not  this  conference  declare  plainly  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  with  His  doctrine  of  love,  pity 
and  self-sacrifice,  has  laid  an  unbearable  burden 
upon  men?  The  key-word  in  this  crisis,”  he  says, 
“  is  revolt.  Let  us  return  to  Nature,  and  live  as 
the  beasts  and  birds  in  the  forests  live,  and  die  as 
they  die — namely,  a  natural  death,  having  no  re¬ 
gard  for  these  petty  dreams  of  Christian  immoral¬ 
ity — And  what  if  this  man  carries  the  delegates, 
and  with  one  voice  they  shout  aloud,  “  Away  with 
this  superstition !  Down  with  these  spires !  ” 
And  what  if  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  and  con¬ 
fusion  the  twilight  should  fall  and  suddenly  in  the 
darkness  a  still,  small  voice  be  heard,  that  in  the 
silence  of  each  heart  turns  to  thunder,  “  What  I 
have  made  shall  be  unmade.  It  shall  be  as  you 
have  willed.  Henceforth  the  light  that  was  given 
is  withdrawn,  and  for  angels’  bread  there  shall  be 


158  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


the  apples  of  Sodom,  and  for  the  wine  and  the 
nectar  of  Paradise  there  shall  be  what  you  ask,  the 
dropping  of  asps  and  the  poison  of  serpents!  ” 

And  what  if,  going  into  the  streets,  these  apos¬ 
tates  should  look  with  hating  eyes  upon  an  altered 
world?  Lifted,  now,  all  the  restraints  of  law! 
Wild  men  who  through  fear  and  shame  had  re¬ 
strained  their  appetites  now  suddenly  reveal  them¬ 
selves.  It  is  as  if  harpies  and  assassins  leap 
from  every  alleyway  upon  those  delegates,  as  the 
mob  spirit  bursts  loose.  Then  comes  the  crash¬ 
ing  of  plate  glass  windows,  the  shrieks  of  night 
watchmen,  the  looting  of  splendid  stores  and 
shops,  and  in  the  suburbs  are  flaming  houses,  and 
the  shrieks  of  women  and  the  moans  of  little  chil¬ 
dren,  for  the  beast  is  let  loose,  because  there  is 
no  Christ  to  stand  between  the  wicked  man  and 
his  victim.  The  scene  is  as  dreadful  for  that  great 
city  as  if  the  bells  of  time  had  tolled  the  beginning 
of  eternity,  while  the  great  serpent  winds  his  coils 
about  the  earth  to  crush  it  into  nothingness.  The 
noise  heard  is  the  crash  of  falling  domes,  cathe¬ 
drals  and  ministers,  with  the  sound  on  the  pave¬ 
ment  of  pictures  falling  from  their  places,  and 
statues  tumbling  from  their  niches,  when  struc¬ 
tures  of  art  and  literature  and  law  and  reform 
manifest  in  architecture,  come  down  in  full  ruin. 
It  is  as  if  the  sun  had  tumbled  from  the  sky,  leav¬ 
ing  a  black  socket. 

Of  course,  if  there  were  no  Christ,  our  civilisa¬ 
tion  would  immediately  change.  Christendom 
would  go,  because  there  would  be  no  estimating 
time  from  the  new  era,  beginning  with  the  day 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  159 


when  that  beautiful  summer  civilisation  set  forth 
from  Bethlehem.  Time  would  doubtless  begin 
with  the  story  of  Romulus  and  Remus.  The  year 
would  then  be  2753,  and  the  dominant  power 
would  be  the  force  of  that  imperial  city,  of  mili¬ 
tarism,  law  and  government  standing  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tiber.  Our  civilisation  would  perish  and 
sink  into  dust  with  the  sinking  of  the  teachings  and 
example  of  Christ.  When  we  speak  of  civilisation, 
we  think  of  our  ships,  our  office  buildings,  our 
factories,  our  great  industries,  our  schools  and 
libraries  and  churches;  but  all  this  is  an  illusion. 
What  we  ought  to  think  about  is  the  ideas,  affec¬ 
tions  and  great  convictions  that  have  been  realised 
in  these  material  structures. 

Suppose  that  every  building  in  the  United  States 
were  blotted  out,  leaving  the  forests,  minerals, 
grains,  fruits  unchanged.  Now  bring  in  100,000,- 
000  Mohammedans  to  take  the  place  of  Americans. 
Soon  the  ideas  of  these  Turks  and  Arabs  would 
organise  the  wood  and  the  iron  and  stone  into 
mosques,  minarets,  palaces  for  the  sultans,  harems, 
slave  markets,  with  horsemen  armed  with  spears, 
planning  a  raid  across  the  line  upon  Canada  to  the 
north  or  Mexico  to  the  south.  Different  ideas 
coerce  metals,  forests,  stone  quarries,  into  different 
forms  of  architecture.  All  this  gorgeous  equipage 
of  our  civilisation  is  but  an  outer  show  that  is  as 
fleeting  as  the  leaf.  The  thing  that  abides  is  the 
thought,  affections  and  visions  of  the  heart. 
Therefore,  touch  the  teachings  of  Jesus  at  your 
peril !  Destroy  Christ’s  teachings  as  to  His  little 
ones,  whose  angels  behold  the  face  of  His  Father 


160  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


in  heaven,  and  the  orphan  asylums,  kindergartens 
and  schools  would  dissolve,  like  the  snowflakes  on 
a  river.  We  trace  all  granaries,  all  wheat  shocks 
and  sheaves  back  to  that  first  perfect  grain  of 
wheat,  in  which  all  harvests  were  latent.  We  trace 
all  noble  buildings  back  to  the  first  house.  We 
trace  a  great  river  like  the  Mississippi  back  to  a 
little  spring.  And  we  trace  the  outer  institutions 
of  civilisation  back  to  the  teachings  of  Jesus  as  to 
a  soul  made  in  the  image  of  God,  a  soul  that  must 
love  and  serve  its  brothers  and  finally  give  its  ac¬ 
count  unto  God. 

But  if  there  were  no  Christ,  to  whom  would  the 
modern  man  go  in  the  hour  when  the  world  reels 
beneath  his  feet,  when  the  fog  chokes  his  throat, 
and  he  clutches  at  what  Tennyson  calls  “  dust  and 
straw  and  chaff,”  where  he  needs  to  find  the  rock? 
When  the  thoughtful  man  gives  up  that  which  is 
good,  he  expects  to  obtain  something  that  is  better. 
Will  a  man  leave  a  stone  house  in  time  of  storm  to 
seek  a  frail  tent?  Man’s  body  must  have  food,  and 
his  anxiety  for  harvests  abides.  Man’s  intellect 
must  have  the  truth,  and  more  and  more  he  desires 
books,  and  thirsts  for  knowledge  and  beauty.  All 
these  musical  instruments  found  in  old  museums, 
beginning  with  the  reed,  and  the  rude  strings 
stretched  over  the  mouth  of  seashells,  and  the 
drums  of  the  medicine  man,  an  ascending  series 
that  culminates  in  the  pipe  organ,  are  proofs  of 
man’s  artistic  needs.  But  what  about  the  passion 
for  righteousness,  that  deathless  longing  in  the 
soul  of  Augustine,  conscious  of  his  black  sins? 
that  tragic  cry  of  David,  calling  unto  the  heavens 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  161 


for  pity,  forgiveness  and  cleansing;  that  muffled 
sob  in  the  throat  of  Cicero,  when  he  exclaimed, 
after  the  death  of  his  beloved  daughter,  “  Is  there 
a  meeting  place  for  the  dead?  ” 

When  men  were  starving  in  Armenia  for  want 
of  wheat,  they  substituted  grass  roots,  and  when 
Christianity  is  gone,  men  want  a  substitute.  But 
it  cannot  be  found  in  Confucius — Confucius  has 
had  centuries  for  his  work,  and  the  end  is  the 
Chinese  Wall,  national  exclusiveness,  polygamy, 
the  parents’  right  of  life  and  death  over  an  unwel¬ 
come  female  babe,  the  headsman’s  axe.  Confucius 
has  produced  China,  and  no  American  will  ex¬ 
change  this  city  for  what  goes  on  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Yangste  River.  Not  one  of  you  will,  as  a 
substitute,  accept  the  leader  of  the  Brahmins,  or 
the  Buddhists.  India  is  a  monument  of  that  faith. 
The  English  army  and  government  have  abolished 
their  Juggernaut  car,  the  burning  of  the  several 
widows  upon  the  funeral  pile  of  their  dead  hus¬ 
bands,  and  many  other  foul  and  cruel  results  of  the 
Indian  faith;  but  Brahminism  stands  for  the  caste 
system  and  you  are  Americans,  believing  in  equal¬ 
ity.  You  can  have  no  interest  in  the  harem  or  the 
zenana,  or  the  idolatrous  orgies,  or  in  the  worship 
of  millions  of  gods  or  in  the  goal  promised  of  a 
“  dreamless  sleep.”  You  can  achieve  unconscious¬ 
ness  in  a  moment  by  a  rope,  a  pistol,  a  little  cyanide 
of  potassium. 

But  surely  this  word  unconsciousness  is  not  the 
last  word  of  a  religion  by  which  one  can  live  and 
die  ?  It  is  certain  also  that  you  will  not  accept  as  a 
substitute  the  Positivism  of  Comte,  with  his  three 


162  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


hundred  and  sixty-five  heroes  and  a  new  name  for 
each  day,  to  be  used  as  a  substitute  for  Christ  and 
for  God.  You  know,  as  you  read  their  names — 
Cicero,  Lamartine,  Goethe — that  the  names  of 
these  hundreds  of  men  hold  a  certain  admixture 
of  selfishness  and  vice  and  meanness  and  even  of 
crime.  Nor  can  you  substitute  for  Christianity  the 
Agnosticism  or  Secularism  of  these  teachers  of 
today.  Witness  Martineau’s  question  :  “  Will  any 
moonlit  form  be  seen  kneeling  in  their  Gethsem- 
anes?  Will  they  rise  from  prostrate  anguish  to 
sublime  repose  through  the  prayer,  ‘  Oh,  thou 
Eternal  Not  Ourselves,  that  makes  for  righteous¬ 
ness,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me.’  Will  any  crucified 
one  lose  the  bitterness  of  death  by  crying,  ‘  Oh, 
Stream  of  Tendency,  into  thy  hands  I  commit  my 
spirit?’  To  the  martyr,  stoned  to  death,  will  any 
heaven  open  when  he  exclaims,  ‘  Great  Ensemble 
of  Humanity,  receive  me?  ’  Will  any  penitent  soul 
pour  out  its  sorrows  to  a  deaf  ideal  and  shed  its 
passionate  tears  on  an  abstraction  that  cannot  wipe 
them  away?  ”  But  if  there  were  no  Christ,  nought 
else  is  left  save  these  abstractions.  If  the  wheaten 
loaf  is  not,  it  remains  for  man  to  clutch  at  the  fog- 
bank  and  feed  his  hunger  upon  mist.  It  is  Christ 
then — or  nothing ! 

If  Christ  were  not,  then  the  human  intellect 
loses  its  only  rational  explanation  ever  given  of  the 
problem  of  suffering  and  sorrow.  To  deny  the 
existence  of  pain  is  as  foolish  as  to  deny  an  earth¬ 
quake  that  destroyed  those  towns  in  Japan,  or  that 
tidal  wave  that  destroyed  Lisbon,  or  the  war  that 
cursed  Belgium  and  France.  Grant  the  existence 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  163 


of  summer  and  its  harvests,  and  we  must  accept  the 
winter  and  snow  also.  Grant  the  garden,  the  palm 
trees  and  fountains,  and  we  must  grant  the  desert, 
and  the  occasional  famine.  Ours  is  a  world  over 
which,  from  time  to  time,  troubles  sweep  like 
sheeted  storms.  No  man  can  escape.  Genius  has 
sought  out  many  inventions,  discovered  many 
secrets,  but  genius  has  never  built  a  door  that  can 
shut  out  trouble.  Soon  or  late  death  robs  us  of 
our  loved  ones.  At  last  comes  an  era  when  the 
grasshopper  becomes  a  burden  and  all  desire  fails. 
Then  comes  the  messenger  upon  his  errand  of  re¬ 
lease  and  convoy,  and  comes  not  for  others  this 
time,  but  for  us. 

And  in  the  world  of  selfishness  and  ignorance 
and  sin  Jesus  comes  into  collision  with  the  Phari¬ 
sees,  and  Roman  governors,  and  slave  owners, 
and  the  more  unyielding  His  convictions  and 
ideals,  the  fiercer  the  collision.  Denial  is  not 
enough;  mere  denial  of  pain  will  cure  no  torture 
of  the  soul  in  its  Gethsemane.  Then  Jesus  enters 
the  scene.  His  message  is  that  sufferings  are  edu- 
catory;  that  when  the  summer  fails  to  turn  the 
acid  of  the  grapes  to  sugar,  or  sweeten  the  nuts, 
the  frost  completes  the  transformation;  that  gold 
is  tried  in  the  fire,  and  acceptable  men  in  the  fur¬ 
nace  of  adversity;  that  the  self-sacrifice  of  one 
hero,  with  his  death,  means  life  and  happiness  to 
those  who  come  after;  that  the  greatest  souls  have 
come  out  of  great  tribulation,  from  the  days  of 
Moses  and  Paul,  with  their  martyrdom  and  unac¬ 
complished  aims,  to  the  days  of  Lincoln  and  Liv¬ 
ingstone;  that  the  richness  of  the  soil  begins  with 


164  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


the  glaciers’  ice  plough;  that  granite  boulders  are 
melted  by  fire  billows,  and  that  slowly,  from  up¬ 
heaval,  comes  harvests  and  a  soil  fit  for  growing 
the  tree  of  life. 

Earth’s  noblest  souls  have  proven  the  soundness 
of  Christ’s  teaching.  Witness  your  own  experi¬ 
ence.  Hours  there  are  when  for  you  everything 
fails,  and  doubts  come  in;  but  there  is  one  face 
that  shines  like  a  star,  the  face  of  your  beautiful 
mother,  who  came  through  all  the  battle  of  life, 
gathering  sweetness,  purity,  tenderness  and  love, 
and  her  testimony  to  the  days  when  she  learned  in 
suffering  the  lessons  she  later  taught,  has  held  you 
to  your  work,  like  an  anchor — sure  and  steadfast. 
In  that  hour  of  transfigured  intellect  you  know 
that  Jesus’s  philosophy  was  sound,  and  His  secret 
sure;  that  He  alone  had  the  clue  of  the  maze,  and 
that  therefore  you  can  go  on  through  all  the  thun¬ 
der  of  life’s  battle,  serene  in  the  conviction  that 
whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth,  and  that  He 
makes  all  the  sons  of  genius  and  of  goodness  to  be 
perfect  through  suffering.  The  greatest  discovery 
that  our  world  has  ever  known  was  not  Columbus’ 
discovery  of  America,  nor  Newton’s  discovery  of 
gravity,  nor  Franklin’s  discovery  of  electricity — 
none  of  these  things — but  the  discovery  of  growth 
and  character  and  salvation  through  suffering, 
through  the  surrender  of  the  will  of  man  to 
the  Will  of  God,  and  the  determination  to  do  right 
though  the  heavens  fall.  Christ’s  simple  state¬ 
ment  of  the  mission  of  sorrow  and  the  sad  plight 
of  a  world  without  pain  has  transformed  the 
world  and  wrought  a  new  era  for  the  soul,  just  as 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  165 


the  doctrine  of  Newton  brought  a  new  era  to 
astronomy. 

But  if  the  world  were  without  Christ  men  would 
lose  the  motive  to  service  and  heroism.  It  was 
Jesus  who  made  the  sum  of  religion  to  be  service 
and  kindness,  its  emblem  a  cup  of  cold  water  and 
its  genius  to  be  helpful.  The  soul  is  not  self- 
propulsive.  All  sailing  boats  need  the  trade  winds. 
There  is  no  locomotive  that  does  not  depend 
upon  some  exterior  propelling  power.  Thus 
the  human  soul  is  dependent  upon  motives  for  its 
forward  movement.  What  hurled  Paul  along  the 
highway  of  his  life?  What  drove  him  toward 
mobbings,  scourgings,  prisons,  and  unto  death  it¬ 
self?  That  chariot  of  the  Greek  god  was  hurled 
forward  by  the  her}"  steeds  of  the  sun,  but  as  for 
Paul,  in  his  eager,  passionate  desire  to  serve 
gladiators,  slaves,  fugitives,  prisoners,  the  word, 
“  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  me,”  holds  his 
secret.  What  led  that  Roman  boy  who  had  just 
heard  the  story  of  the  Carpenter  upon  the  Cross, 
that  Roman  boy  who  was  a  slave,  and  came  in 
from  the  field  to  find  that  his  young  master  had 
drowned,  to  his  brave  death  of  sacrifice?  Pie  sim¬ 
ply  asked  for  the  place  where  his  young  master  had 
gone  down,  and  though  they  held  him  back,  leaped 
into  the  black  flood,  felt  around  on  the  bottom 
of  the  lake,  and  at  last  found  and  brought  up  the 
body,  yet  died  himself.  Surely  there  was  a  motive 
back  of  this  Roman  boy's  deed,  and  it  proved  to  be 
in  the  sentence,  “  he  that  loseth  his  life  shall 
save  it.” 

Recall  also  that  cripple  in  Switzerland,  when  the 


166  WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN? 


army  of  the  Austrians  was  crossing  the  mountain 
pass.  A  great  love  of  country  welled  up  in  the 
heart  of  the  little  hunchback.  So  when  the  senti¬ 
nels  felt  that  all  was  safe,  because  the  heavy  snow¬ 
fall  had  come,  and  they  flung  themselves  down  to 
sleep,  the  cripple,  at  midnight,  when  all  was  still, 
kept  his  window  up,  drew  the  blankets  a  little 
closer,  and  with  his  head  out  in  the  snow  listened, 
straining  to  hear  the  slightest  sound.  It  was  his 
vigilance  that  detected  the  approach  of  the  enemy. 
It  was  that  cripple  who  wakened  the  sentinels,  and 
the  sentinels  roused  the  soldiers,  and  the  soldiers 
went  up  to  the  pass  and  held  that  narrow  defile, 
and  saved  the  valley.  What  miracles  the  love  of 
country  hath  wrought !  What  a  transformer  love 
is!  What  impossible  feats  it  has  accomplished! 
Ten  thousand  beautiful  philanthropies  were  born 
when  Jesus  said,  “  The  angels  do  always  behold 
the  face  of  My  Father.”  “  Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  My  little 
ones,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me.”  There  is  on  a 
certain  tropic  tree  a  purple  blossom,  at  the  end  of 
the  bough.  Travelers  say  that  if  you  touch  that 
crimson  heart,  you  slay  the  glorious  shrub.  Not 
otherwise  touch  at  your  peril  Christ,  with  His  love 
of  the  poor  and  the  weak,  and  the  reforms,  and 
the  beautiful  philanthropies  perish  also! 

If  there  were  no  Christ,  then  the  immortal  hope 
perishes  with  Him.  One  December  day,  Harriet 
Martineau  wrote  her  friend,  saying:  “For  Eng¬ 
land  the  summer  has  gone,  and  for  me  the  ever¬ 
lasting  winter  has  set  in.”  When  James  Mill  gave 
up  the  Christ,  he  said  “  that  the  clouds  had  slowly 


WHAT  IF  CHRIST  HAD  NEVER  BEEN?  167 


closed  in  and  choked  all  hope.”  Death  had  become 
only  a  leap  into  the  dark,  over  a  chasm,  whose 
sharp  rocks  held  an  unknown  power  for  mangling. 
The  philosophers  argued.  The  poets  have  hoped 
for  a  meeting  place  of  the  dead.  The  lovers  have 
cried  out  for  the  beloved  one.  The  parents  have 
sobbed,  “  Is  death  a  door  into  another  room  ?  Or 
a  fall  into  a  hole  in  the  ground?”  Then  Jesus 
stood  at  the  gate  of  the  sepulchre.  His  message 
concerned  the  life  immortal.  What  others  talked 
about,  He  saw.  His  forehead  grazed  the  stars. 
He  looked  over  the  top  of  the  hill,  named  man’s 
horizon,  and  saw  afar  off  the  sweet  fields  of  living 
green  in  the  land  of  pure  delight.  He  plucked  fear 
out  of  men’s  souls  as  the  husbandman  plucks  the 
tare  out  of  the  wheat,  as  the  physician  plucks  the 
foul  growth  out  of  the  fair  body,  and  restores  it  to 
full  health.  He  taught  men  that  dying  was  home¬ 
going;  that  heaven  was  the  Father’s  house,  and 
that  nothing  could  ever  injure  God’s  children, 
either  here  or  there,  either  before  death  or  after 
death.  The  sweetest  music  that  ever  fell  on 
the  ears  of  humanity  are  the  words,  “  In  my 
Father’s  house  are  many  mansions.”  “  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid.” 
Not  until  men  prefer  fog  bank  to  wheat  harvests, 
the  will  o’  the  wisp  to  the  guiding  star;  not 
until  they  prefer  candles  flickering  into  the  socket, 
to  the  summer-making  sun,  will  they  prefer  these 
tawdry  little  superstitions  before  that  Divine 
Teacher,  whose  music  is  sphere-music,  and  whose 
voice  is  the  melody  of  the  world. 


XII 


THE  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS 

OF  GOD 

"  Thou  kncwcst  not  the  time  of  thy  visitation.” — 
Luke  xix :  44. 

FROM  the  Mount  of  Olives  Jesus  looked 
over  upon  Jerusalem,  with  its  temple,  its 
palaces,  its  streets,  in  the  zenith  of  their 
splendour  and  the  perfection  of  their  beauty.  He 
saw  the  people  thronging  the  shops,  buying  and 
selling,  marrying  and  given  in  marriage,  all  uncon¬ 
scious  of  the  storm,  big  with  calamity,  hanging 
just  above  their  heads.  King  Herod  in  his  palace, 
the  Chief  Priest  in  his  temple,  saw  no  outer  sign 
of  the  approaching  retribution,  and  yet  the  time 
of  visitation  and  penalty  had  fully  come.  There 
was  a  foul  palace,  where  a  king  lived  like  a  pig  in 
a  sty;  there  was  a  corrupt  Temple,  where  “the 
Temple  ring”  rioted  rather  than  feasted;  there 
was  a  rotten  court,  a  rotten  camp,  and  a  rotten 
people.  Every  crowded  city  during  the  fiery  sum¬ 
mer  sends  up  foul  gases  and  exhalations,  that  hold 
lightnings  latent,  but  destructive.  And  Jerusalem, 
with  its  sensuality  and  cruelty,  its  greed  and  op¬ 
pression,  carried  within  itself  the  beginning  and 
the  end  of  penalty  and  retribution.  Every  nation 
holds  at  least  one  epoch  that  illustrates  this  prin- 

168 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  169 


ciple  of  self-retribution.  Witness  France  in  1789. 
Never  had  Louis  been  so  firmly  established  upon 
his  throne.  The  French  language  was  universal, 
the  French  court  was  most  brilliant,  the  foreign 
guards  most  faithful,  and  yet  Marie  Antoinette 
and  Louis  had  no  eyes  to  see  the  black  cloud  gath¬ 
ering  above  the  palace.  To  the  King  and  Queen 
the  stroke  of  the  revolution  was  a  thunderbolt  out 
of  a  blue  sky,  while  for  men  of  vision  the  tornado 
had  been  long  overdue. 

He  who  obeys  the  law  of  God  finds  the  divine 
law  resting  upon  his  shoulders  with  the  lightness  of 
a  gossamer  thread,  while  he  who  disobeys  God’s 
law  finds  that  law  an  iron  fetter  that  weighs  him 
down.  Jesus  saw  revelry  and  frivolity  in  the  streets 
below,  and  calamity  impending  from  the  heavens 
above.  And  He  wept  for  the  Temple  that  would 
soon  be  a  waste  and  the  city  to  become  a  desolation. 

Wise  men  see  that  all  divine  visitations  are 
natural,  and  not  arbitrary  and  capricious.  The 
term  visitation  means  the  coming  of  God  to  indi¬ 
viduals,  cities  and  nations.  From  the  superficial 
viewpoint  the  divine  approach  is  secret,  unexpected 
and  unprepared  for.  In  reality,  the  visitations  ap¬ 
proach  step  by  step,  stage  by  stage,  with  the 
evenness  of  the  approach  of  summer  or  winter. 
Doubtless  this  misapprehension  springs  out  of  a 
careless  reading  of  the  great  events  of  history. 
Every  nation  has  its  own  story  of  a  flood,  and 
every  tradition  represents  the  storm  as  coming 
suddenly,  overtaking  the  people  like  a  waterspout. 
While  the  men  of  Sodom  were  revelling  and  in¬ 
dulging  in  their  orgies,  the  fire  broke  out,  and 


170  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


under  the  impulse  of  a  mighty  wind  the  flames 
consumed  the  city  in  a  single  night.  Belshazzar 
assembled  a  thousand  lords  for  the  great  feast  in 
his  palace,  when  suddenly  there  was  the  handwrit¬ 
ing  on  the  wall.  Secretly,  the  judgment,  “  Thou 
art  weighed  in  the  balances  and  art  found  want¬ 
ing,”  was  pronounced.  Unexpectedly  the  gates  of 
the  city  went  down  before  the  rush  of  the  invading 
army,  and  when  the  sun  rose  the  palace  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  besieging  army,  and  Belshazzar  and 
his  lords  went  down  under  the  retributions  of  an 
outraged  people.  When  the  atmosphere  of  a  city 
is  foul  with  poison,  when  mephitic  gases  threaten 
the  springs  of  health  and  life,  it  must  needs  be  that 
the  lightning  burn  away  the  poison  and  make  the 
atmosphere  sweet  and  clean,  that  the  harvest  wind 
may  blow  over  untainted  fields.  The  coming  of 
the  electric  bolt  may  be  sudden,  but  the  prepara¬ 
tion  thereof  is  slow,  natural  and  ordered.  By  law, 
the  dew  distills.  By  law,  the  snowflakes  form  and 
fall.  By  law,  the  seasons  come  and  go.  By  law, 
the  clouds  store  their  secret  forces.  By  law,  the 
thunderbolt  is  let  fly  along  its  appointed  path.  By 
law  Belshazzar  and  Herod  went  toward  their  retri¬ 
bution  and  overthrow. 

No  judgment  of  God  upon  Sodom  or  Jerusalem, 
Paris  or  Peking  is  an  arbitrary  and  wanton  judg¬ 
ment.  Every  evil  man,  city  and  empire  slowly  pre¬ 
pares  the  explosives  that  by  natural  processes 
bring  about  their  own  retribution. 

To  the  outer  eye,  when  the  giant  tree  goes  down 
in  the  forest,  it  goes  suddenly  and  unexpectedly, 
but  to  the  close  observer,  the  preparation  for  the 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  171 


fall  covered  months  and  }Tears.  Slowly  the  worm 
cuts  its  way  to  the  heart  of  the  tree ;  slowly  the  rain 
swells  the  tiny  hole,  the  frost  loosens,  the  heat  en¬ 
larges  the  aperture;  slowly  the  gases  and  acids 
begin  to  cut  the  fibre ;  little  by  little  the  decay  goes 
toward  the  heart.  Outwardly  the  bark  is  sound. 
To  the  boy’s  eyes,  the  great  tree  seems  easily  the 
king  of  the  forest,  and  yet  the  heart  is  hollow,  and 
the  tree  is  a  mere  shell.  One  day  there  is  a  sound 
of  the  winds’  going  in  the  tree  tops,  and  suddenly, 
the  huge  tree  comes  crashing  down,  and  lo,  it  had 
a  rotten  heart !  Thus  the  day  came,  when  the 
armies  of  Titus  were  encamped  round  about 
Jerusalem.  The  walls  fell,  the  Temple  doors  gave 
way,  and  not  one  stone  was  left  upon  another. 
But  no  temple  can  defend  itself.  No  city  gate  can 
lift  the  weapon  or  be  its  own  watchman.  The 
Hebrew  manhood  had  gone,  arid  therefore  the 
capital  fell.  The  Hebrew  soldier  had  lost  his  cour¬ 
age;  the  Jewish  statesman  had  lost  his  justice;  the 
priests  and  Levites  had  lost  the  ethical  note.  The 
people  had  become  feeblings,  manhood  .had  de¬ 
cayed  at  the  heart,  and  the  nation  was  dead.  Soon 
a  handful  of  Roman  soldiers  laid  waste  the  capital, 
and  destroyed  the  whole  country  because  the  pow¬ 
ers  of  resistance  had  broken  down.  Jesus  read 
Jerusalem  like  an  open  book.  Beholding  the  city 
that  had  no  defenders,  He  wept,  crying:  “Oh, 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  if  thou  hadst  but  known  the 
day  of  thy  visitation.”  Blind  to  the  signals  that 
were  hanging  from  the  battlements  of  heaven, 
deaf  to  the  overtures  of  God,  the  people  went 
toward  ruin,  and  the  uttermost  of  desolation. 


172  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


To  the  practical  man,  these  unexpected  visita¬ 
tions  of  God  are  redemptive.  There  are  four  types 
of  destiny,  and  to  each  of  the  four  there  comes  the 
overture  of  God  to  a  nobler  and  juster  life.  As 
the  type  of  the  man  of  affairs,  living  by  reason, 
prudence  and  foresight,  let  us  take  Jacob,  who  has 
so  largely  shaped  the  character  of  the  Hebrew  peo¬ 
ple.  In  retrospect,  he  was  the  best  equipped  youth 
of  his  time.  He  was  cautious,  conservative,  laying 
out  his  life  on  long  plans,  and  safeguarding  his  in¬ 
terests  against  any  possible  peril.  His  older  brother, 
Esau,  under  the  law  of  the  time,  should  have 
fallen  heir  to  the  estate  and  carried  on  the  family 
name.  But  Esau  was  an  Epicurean.  A  pleasure- 
lover,  he  lived  for  the  body,  with  rich  foods 
and  wines,  with  soft  raiment  and  brilliant  equip- 
page.  For  Esau,  one  hour  of  pleasure  today  was 
worth  a  dozen  hours  of  possible  safety  tomorrow. 
Moreover,  the  impulsive  youth,  full  of  animal  spir¬ 
its,  frivolous  and  wasting  his  substance  with  his 
riotous  fellows,  secretly  despised  the  family  name, 
and  cared  nothing  for  the  title.  Nothing  can  be 
baser  than  Esau’s  overture  to  Jacob,  that  he  would 
surrender  the  right  to  represent  the  family  and  be 
the  leader  thereof,  if  Jacob  would  give  to  him  the 
money  for  his  orgies,  that  is  represented  by  the 
words,  “  the  mess  of  pottage.”  The  stern  and  just 
man  would  say  that  it  served  Esau  right.  But  in 
his  unwillingness  to  wound  his  father’s  feelings, 
when  the  day  came  that  the  blind  father  was  to 
hand  over  the  leadership  to  his  son,  in  the  presence 
of  the  assembled  servants  Jacob  played  a  trick  upon 
the  father,  to  the  horror  of  the  onlooking  servants. 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  173 


whose  excitement  and  protestation  revealed  to 
Isaac  that  something  was  wrong. 

In  such  an  era  it  was  Esau,  the  hail-fellow-well 
met,  impulsive,  open-handed,  convivial,  free,  gener¬ 
ous,  that  had  the  heart  of  the  people  in  his  hand. 
The  servants  looked  upon  Jacob  as  hard-fisted  and 
close,  not  knowing  that  there  was  better  substance 
in  the  second  brother  for  the  building  of  a  great 
family.  And  then  God  came  to  the  deceiver, 
Jacob.  A  divine  messenger  knocked  upon  the 
door  of  conscience.  The  youth  wakened  to  realise 
his  sin.  Jacob  was  strong,  and  Esau  was  weak. 
Jacob  had  skill,  foresight  and  resource,  and  Esau 
was  frivolous  and  idle.  Jacob  was  an  athlete  who 
had  taken  advantage  of  his  weaker  brother. 
Shame  struck  him  through  and  through.  Fear 
overwhelmed  Jacob.  Conscience  prodded  him  as 
with  a  sword’s  point.  Ashamed,  and  full  of  grief, 
Jacob  planned  a  worthy  deed.  Instead  of  claiming 
the  right  of  family  leadership,  he  determined 
to  go  away  and  leave  his  brother  Esau  in  full  pos¬ 
session.  Instead  of  asking  his  portion  of  goods 
that  belonged  to  him,  he  surrendered  all  his  own 
goods  to  Esau,  and  went  out  to  become  the  archi¬ 
tect  of  his  own  fortune.  It  was  as  if  the  oldest 
son  on  an  English  estate  should  go  into  hiding  that 
his  younger  brother,  less  resourceful,  might  fall 
heir  to  the  castle  and  all  the  wide-lying  acres.  It 
was  a  splendid  conception,  nobly  carried  out.  To 
repentance  Jacob  added  restitution.  Then  he  fled 
into  the  night,  and  started  across  the  desert,  hun¬ 
dreds  of  miles,  toward  a  distant  land  where  his 
uncle  lived.  But  God  did  not  meet  the  repentant 


174  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


sinner  half  way.  He  who  in  true  sorrow,  and  after 
due  restitution  of  his  wrong,  has  turned  toward 
God,  finds  that  heaven  has  come  a  long  way  to 
meet  him.  Alone  in  the  desert,  with  a  stone  for 
his  pillow,  and  the  night  wind  for  his  blanket,  and 
the  light  of  the  firefly  for  a  candle,  with  tears  and 
sobs,  Jacob  cried  out  that  though  all  things  else 
had  been  taken  away,  mother,  father,  home  and 
name  he  asked  that  God  would  not  take  away 
His  presence.  In  his  dream  he  saw  that  heaven 
was  not  far  off,  that  a  very  short  ladder  suf¬ 
ficed  to  reach  from  his  pillow  of  stone  to  the 
battlements  of  God.  He  saw  the  angels  of  memory 
taking  his  prayers  and  penitence  up  to  God,  and 
the  angels  of  pity  descending  with  messages  of 
forgiveness. 

And  this  practical  man  represents  a  modern 
type.  Many  of  you  have  heard  of  God  by  the 
hearing  of  your  ears.  Well  equipped  and  well 
educated,  you  have  found  God  in  the  heavens 
above  and  the  earth  beneath.  The  ordering  of 
events,  and  the  upward  movement  of  society  have 
become  witnesses  to  a  Power  that  makes  for  right¬ 
eousness.  Suddenly,  in  some  critical  hour  of  your 
life,  knowledge  through  the  intellect,  became  cer¬ 
tainty  for  the  heart.  A  divine  visitation  came  to 
you.  It  was  like  the  coming  of  the  morning,  when 
the  sun  in  his  unrivaled  splendour  breaks  over  the 
earth,  and  the  bats  and  things  of  the  night  retreat 
to  their  caves,  to  be  seen  no  more.  In  the  hour  of 
vision  every  ignoble  thought  fled  away  forever 
from  Jacob.  In  such  an  hour  it  were  easier  to 
doubt  the  sun  than  to  doubt  that  God  is,  and  that 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  175 


He  is  flooding  your  soul  with  waves  of  light 
and  love. 

The  child  needs  no  argument  for  the  grapes 
when  it  is  plucking  the  purple  clusters.  The  bee 
needs  no  proof  of  honey  when  it  is  sipping  the 
clover  sweets.  Dante  needs  no  philosophy  of  af¬ 
fection  when  he  is  resting  upon  Beatrice’s  love. 
The  scholar  needs  no  book  of  apologetics  in  the 
hour  when  God,  the  Great  Physician,  has  ap¬ 
proached  with  medicine  to  heal  wounds,  with  pity 
to  forgive  sins,  with  love  to  redeem  the  life.  No 
ingenious  and  gifted  youth  but  has  known  one  such 
golden  hour  of  divine  visitation.  These  are  life’s 
great  moments.  Oh!  write  them  down  forever 
upon  the  book  of  memory!  To  the  mariner,  car¬ 
rying  his  ship,  his  cargo  and  passengers  across  the 
sea  after  days  of  fog  and  clouds,  there  comes  a 
moment  when  the  north  wind  cleaves  a  way 
through  the  mist.  For  one  moment  the  sun  shines 
out-— but  that  moment,  short  as  it  is,  is  long 
enough  for  the  captain  to  take  his  bearings  and  set 
his  compass.  The  mists  may  shut  down  again,  but 
the  captain  knows  just  where  he  is,  and  he  sets  his 
compass,  knowing  that  he  shall  make  the  distant 
harbour  and  drop  anchor  in  the  desired  harbour. 
And  henceforth  Jacob  had  his  bearings!  He  set 
his  moral  timepiece  by  the  divine  Sun,  and  through 
that  visitation  of  God,  he  became  at  length  the 
prince  and  founder  of  the  commonwealth  of  God. 

This  unexpected  visitation  of  God  sometimes 
works  strange  transformations  upon  men  who 
have  set  their  hearts  upon  things  material.  One 
of  the  richest  trees  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  is  the 


176  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


tree  of  property.  God  planted  that  tree,  and  fed 
its  roots,  and  ripened  clusters  of  abundance  for 
those  who  looked  to  Him  for  daily  bread.  The 
love  of  property  is  as  lawful  and  praiseworthy  in 
the  individual  as  is  the  love  passion.  Property  is 
necessary  for  the  State.  Society  does  well  to  hon¬ 
our  him  whose  industry,  prudence  and  economy 
keeps  his  family  from  beggary,  vice  and  shame. 
This  love  of  property  is  one  of  the  forces  that 
hurls  the  chariot  of  the  soul  forward  along  life’s 
highway.  But  what  if  a  man  who  plants  the  tree 
of  wealth  should  finally  come  to  love  the  tree  for 
its  own  sake?  That  is  why  the  word  for  the 
miserable  man  is  the  word  “  miser.”  Having 
planted  the  tree  in  the  world  garden,  when  the 
clusters  are  ripe  they  are  to  be  used  for  food.  But 
what  if  the  man  who  tends  that  tree  should  drop 
his  spade  and  seize  a  club,  and  shout  to  the  hungry 
children,  “Stand  off!  Let  no  one  touch  these 
clusters!  They  are  too  precious  to  be  eaten.  I 
planted  this  tree!  I  ripened  this  fruit  and  food! 
What  is  mine  is  mine !  ”  Meanwhile  children 
weep  and  clusters  rot ! 

Strange,  this  perversion!  Passing  strange  this 
turning  of  the  husbandman  against  himself!  The 
eye  was  made  for  light,  but  he  who  misuses  the 
eye  will  find  the  light  become  a  torture.  Conver¬ 
sation  is  pleasant  to  the  ears,  for  the  ear  was  made 
for  hearing;  but  he  who  misuses  his  nerve  force 
can  reach  a  point  where  every  sound  is  torture. 
God  made  property  to  ripen  fruit — not  for  the 
next  generation,  but  for  the  people  of  today. 
Strange  that  men  can  so  misuse  their  gifts  that 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  177 


they  lose  all  the  power  to  pluck  the  clusters  for 
feeding  the  poor  and  weak.  Such  a  man  was 
Dives.  God  gave  him  rich  harvests  because  there 
were  orphans  and  poor  people.  The  children’s 
arms  were  spread  wide  to  receive  the  fruit,  but 
Dives  turned  his  back  on  the  little  children  and 
built  huge  barns  instead  of  harvesting  this  treasure 
into  children's  hands.  And  then  he  said,  “  Soul, 
thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years.” 
But  what  word  is  this,  “  Soul — thou  hast  corn !  ” 
Can  a  soul  eat  corn?  Can  the  intellect  and  the 
memory  consume  wheat?  Can  the  taste  and  the 
imagination  drink  oil  and  wine?  Corn  was  made 
for  the  body.  If  Dives’  body  had  enough  corn, 
plainly  the  surplus  was  for  the  poor  and  the  weak 
who  had  no  bread.  The  children  pleaded  and  the 
poor  sobbed,  and  the  beggar  died  in  his  rags  and 
poverty.  Meanwhile  heaven  was  silent — that  is 
as  it  were,  silent.  But  all  the  time  along  the  high¬ 
way  from  heaven  might  have  been  seen  an  ap¬ 
proaching  figure — only  this  angel  that  comes  is  the 
angel  of  Justice.  Suddenly  the  sword,  red  with 
insufferable  wrath  against  selfishness,  leaps  from 
its  scabbard. 

Dives  is  dead — on  earth  they  carry  his  body  to 
his  tomb  under  velvet  plumes.  But  Dives’  soul 
stands  at  the  gate  of  the  city  of  God.  And  lo, 
the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword  stands  in  the 
way,  forbidding  his  passage.  Dives’  soul  had  no 
place  in  heaven.  Dives  lived  for  corn.  Let  him 
die  as  the  corn  dies.  Retribution  had  come.  The 
separation  is  here.  There  is  a  chasm  digged  be¬ 
tween  selfishness  and  love,  between  iniquity  and 


178  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


integrity.  There  is  a  great  gulf  and  abyss  that 
stands  between  Dives’  barns  and  God’s  palace  of 
amethyst  and  silver,  into  which  He  has  brought 
the  orphans  that  Dives  despised.  Oh,  that  this 
generation  had  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear.  Look 
at  the  colossal  fortunes,  while  the  hundred  thou¬ 
sand  families  that  piled  them  up,  live  in  hovels! 
Our  modern  Dives  has  done  no  stroke  of  work 
for  twenty  years.  Meanwhile,  the  children  sob, 
and  heaven  is  silent.  But  be  not  deceived! 
Heaven  is  not  mocked.  Silence  does  not  mean 
forgetfulness.  There  is  a  God  in  the  sky.  Human 
judgments  will  be  reversed.  What  if  the  last  poor 
workman  in  yonder  rude  hut,  who  has  toiled  on 
faithfully,  without  bitterness  or  hate  or  weapon, 
shall  be  first  before  God,  while  Dives  stands  forth 
the  last  call !  Alas  for  Dives,  that  takes  up  sobs 
in  the  hour  when  he  lifts  up  his  voice,  “  If  I  had 
but  known!  Oh,  if  I  had  but  known  the  day  of 
God’s  visitation!  ”  while  he  weeps  over  the  ruined 
City  of  Mansoul. 

Strange  visitations  come  to  the  men  who  repre¬ 
sent  lawless  ambition.  The  historic  representative 
of  this  type  is  Saul,  the  most  gifted  man  of  his 
day.  In  his  youth  his  father’s  wealth  gave  him 
leisure  to  study  in  the  school  of  Gamaliel  and  to 
travel  in  foreign  lands.  Ambitious,  he  set  his  heart 
on  promotion,  and  determined  to  get  on.  The 
pathway  to  glory  was  through  the  Sanhedrim. 
That  group  of  men  included  in  themselves  control 
of  the  lands,  the  offices,  the  gold,  and  the  power 
of  the  country.  Unfortunately  for  young  Saul,  no 
man  could  belong  to  the  Sanhedrim  who  was  not 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  179 


old  and  mature.  That  law  was  inflexible  and 
never  varied.  Desperate,  young  Saul  determined 
to  break  into  that  magic  circle.  Fortunately  for 
his  lawless  ambition,  the  Sanhedrim  fronted  a 
crisis.  This  new  faith  of  Christ  was  spreading 
among  the  people.  An  old  member  of  the  San¬ 
hedrim,  Gamaliel,  stood  up  and  argued,  “If  it  be 
of  God  we  cannot  fight  it,  and  if  it  be  not  of  God 
it  will  come  to  naught.  Let  us  do  nothing.” 
Other  members  had  the  spirit  which  centuries  later 
possessed  Torquemada  and  the  Inquisition,  but 
because  they  were  old  they  were  timid,  and  did 
not  dare  fling  themselves  against  the  new  faith. 
Their  Inquisition  needed  youth,  dash,  ignorance 
and  lawless  ambition,  and  they  made  overtures  to 
young  Saul.  Shrewd,  ambitious,  selfish,  Saul  or¬ 
ganised  persecution,  yet  himself  stood  in  the  back¬ 
ground.  Just  as  today  men  who  have  organised 
combinations  to  destroy  the  poor  and  prepared 
cunning  schemes  to  evade  the  laws,  have  put  clerks 
and  puppets  forward  upon  whom  the  state  will 
execute  its  judicial  penalties,  so  in  that  far-off  era 
Saul  stood  off  and  kept  the  garments  of  his  puppets 
who  stoned  Stephen  to  death.  But  “  when  ambi¬ 
tion  soars  too  near  the  sun  the  heat  melts  away 
the  golden  wings.”  Saul  found  that  blood  was 
valuable  to  wash  ambition’s  hands. 

And  now  that  Saul  has  won  the  approval  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Sanhedrim,  and  the  prize  is  within 
his  reach,  he  looks  for  more  cities  to  conquer,  and 
more  disciples  to  persecute,  and  starts  toward  Da¬ 
mascus.  It  was  a  long  journey,  and  the  way  was 
solitary.  Solitude  is  terrible  for  a  man  with  a 


180  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


guilty  deed  upon  his  conscience,  and  blood  upon 
his  hands!  Nothing  can  be  more  awful  than  for 
some  Macbeth  to  be  alone  at  night,  while  God’s 
stars  blaze  at  him,  and  keep  blazing.  Oh,  these 
stars  that  would  not  let  Saul  sleep!  The  whole 
sky  at  night  became  a  divine  forehead,  out  of 
which  blaze  these  two  stars,  always  two  and  two! 
What  Saul  feared  was  the  God  of  justice.  There 
was  a  God  of  justice  behind  the  stars.  This  sun, 
too,  at  high  noon,  with  light  insufferable,  scorched 
his  soul.  Conscience  became  unendurable.  Saul 
now  saw  Stephen’s  face  shining  as  he  lay  dying, 
with  the  splendour  of  heaven  upon  his  face.  In  an 
agony  of  remorse  he  cried  aloud.  By  the  way  of 
sin  he  had  gone  toward  the  throne  of  justice,  only 
to  find  it  was  a  throne  of  mercy.  The  divine  visit¬ 
ation  had  come.  Reason  that  had  whispered  warn¬ 
ings  began  to  thunder.  The  praise  of  men  in  the 
Sanhedrim  seemed  as  nothing  in  the  face  of  the 
condemnation  of  God.  In  an  agony  of  remorse  he 
cried  out  unto  God,  and  fled  into  the  sands  of 
Arabia,  where  he  remained  for  three  years.  He 
put  distance  between  that  Sanhedrim,  with  its 
temptations  to  lawless  ambition,  and  himself.  He 
obeyed  the  divine  visitation.  He  listened  to  the 
warnings  that  fell  from  the  battlements  of  heaven. 
What  changed  Saul  the  Inquisitor,  to  Paul,  the 
hero  and  martyr?  Why,  that  visitation  of  God 
to  a  youth  of  unbridled  ambition,  melting  him 
into  obedience,  self-surrender,  and  loyalty  to  God. 
If  Saul  had  not  known  the  day  of  God’s  visitation, 
the  disaster  would  have  been  one  of  the  greatest 
moral  disasters  in  the  annals  of  time. 


UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD  181 


To  all  men  come  these  overtures  divine.  Won¬ 
derful  these  moments  when  truth  glows  in  the 
soul  like  flame  in  the  coal.  In  hours  when  the 
reason  is  struck  through  and  through  with  light, 
men  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.  Are 
not  luminous  hours,  hours  of  destiny?  They  are 
sometimes  as  brief  as  the  strategic  moment  that 
comes  to  the  astronomer  watching  an  eclipse. 
Only  for  a  moment  is  shadow  there,  and  then  the 
eclipse  passes,  so  the  scientist  must  be  ready  for 
that  moment.  If  all  things  are  ready,  the  astrono¬ 
mer  carries  away  upon  his  plate  the  record  of  the 
movement  of  sun  and  planet,  and  human  culture  is 
enriched  by  the  new  knowledge.  But  if  the  as¬ 
tronomer  is  careless  and  sleeps  during  that  precious 
moment,  then  the  great  opportunity  is  lost,  and 
once  lost  is  lost  forever.  Thus  when  these  lumi¬ 
nous  moods  come  to  man  the  one  duty  is  instant 
action,  immediate  decision,  and  irrevocable  pledges. 
The  old  man,  grown  callous  and  hard,  may  be 
tempted  to  reject  these  moods,  counting  them  mere 
sentimentalism,  and  despising  them  as  emotional. 
A  dead  soul  is  like  yonder  dead  moon.  What  if 
you  could  sit  down  and  talk  with  the  spirit  of  that 
dead  world  as  you  talk  with,  a  familiar  friend? 
Suppose  the  moon  should  say,  “  Once  I  believed  in 
the  procession  of  the  seasons.  Once  I  waited  for 
the  blowing  of  the  south  wind,  the  arbutus  blos¬ 
som,  the  tender  grass  and  the  flaming  orchards. 
Once  I  spread  my  boughs  for  the  birds  and  shel¬ 
tered  the  beasts  against  the  storm.  But  that  is  all 
gone.  Now  I  am  practical.  I  have  gotten  down 
to  hard  pan.  I  believe  in  solid  rock.  No  more 


182  UNEXPECTED  VISITATIONS  OF  GOD 


perfumed  sentiments  for  me.  No  more  ideals  and 
aspirations.”  Alas !  for  the  dead  soul  that  has  lost 
its  ideals,  given  up  its  dreams  and  reveries,  its 
secret  prayers  and  hidden  hopes.  The  wise  man 
will  cherish  these  noble  moods.  He  will  nurture 
these  moments  big  with  character  and  destiny! 
So  that  is  what  it  is  to  be  a  practical  man ! 


XIII 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY,  NO 
CHARACTER  WITHOUT  WORSHIP 

“And  as  his  custom  was,  he  went  into  the  synagogue 
on  the  sabbath  day.’'— Luke;  iv:  16. 

THERE  are  eighteen  silent  years  in  the  life 
of  Jesus.  These  years,  like  the  throne  of 
God,  are  surrounded  with  clouds  and  mys¬ 
tery.  For  one  brief  moment,  when  He  was  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  the  curtains  parted,  and  we 
see  the  face  of  an  eager  boy,  standing  in  the  Tem¬ 
ple,  on  the  Sabbath  Day,  both  asking  and  answer¬ 
ing  questions.  But  the  curtain  falls  again  and 
when,  eighteen  years  later,  we  catch  another 
glimpse  of  the  young  Carpenter,  He  is  standing  in 
the  Temple,  on  the  Sabbath,  with  the  sacred  roll 
in  His  hand.  What  influences  entered  into  those 
plastic  years  of  the  greatest  and  most  beautiful 
figure  in  history,  we  do  not  know!  Did  He  ever 
enter  the  class  room  of  some  noble  teacher,  as  Paul 
sat  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel?  As  Aristotle  listened 
to  Plato?  There  were  several  Greek  cities  founded 
by  Alexander  upon  the  shores  of  Lake  Galilee ;  did 
Jesus  meet  in  one  of  those  towns  the  Greek  mer¬ 
chants  who  visited  Him  later  in  Jerusalem?  And 
did  they  ever  show  Him  their  books  of  Homer  and 
Hesiod,  and  Herodotus?  To  the  north,  a  day’s 
journey,  was  that  financial  centre,  Damascus. 

183 


184  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


What  were  Jesus’  thoughts  when  He  stood  in 
their  market  place?  Where  the  commerce  of  four 
nations  met  and  mingled.  To  the  west  of  Naza¬ 
reth,  within  one  brisk  morning’s  walk,  were  the 
high  cliffs  from  which  Jesus  looked  down  upon  the 
Mediterranean,  white  with  the  sails  of  ships,  carry¬ 
ing  wheat  to  Rome.  Many  powerful  influences 
united  to  emancipate  Jesus  from  the  limitations  of 
race,  class,  colour,  and  sex.  He  was  the  first  human 
being  that  loved  all  races,  pitied  all,  helped  all. 
Other  influences  must  have  done  something  to 
make  Him  a  teacher,  not  of  the  Hebrew  race,  but 
of  the  human  race.  We  are  certain  that  the  one 
overmastering  influence  in  His  growing  life  was 
the  influence  of  His  invariable  custom  of  worship 
in  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath.  Within  sacred 
walls  He  read  and  re-read  and  received  into  His 
memory,  the  great  mother  ideas  of  right  and  wrong, 
and  duty,  as  set  forth  in  the  laws  of  Moses.  Again 
and  again  He  pondered  the  story  of  the  national  he¬ 
roes,  Abraham,  and  Joseph,  Saul  and  Daniel,  of  the 
Judges,  Samuel  and  Eli  and  Gideon;  of  the  poets, 
Job,  and  David,  with  the  visions  of  Isaiah.  Oft, 
He  brooded  over  the  social  ideals  of  Amos  and 
Malachi.  Oft  in  solitude  He  dreamed  His  dreams 
of  a  new  social  order  and  a  golden  age.  Often, 
too,  in  the  night,  under  the  stars,  alone  while  other 
men  slept,  He  saw  the  rift  in  the  sky,  and  heard 
the  voices  falling,  and  in  an  ecstacy  of  joy  and 
tears  left  far  below  the  little  house  and  the  old 
workshop,  and  walked  the  streets  of  the  unseen 
and  beautiful  City  of  God. 

Now  the  very  genius  of  Jesus’  character  and  the 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY  185 


whole  ordering  of  His  life  are  revealed  in  the  fact 
that  His  custom  of  worship  on  the  Sabbath  was 
an  example  that  He  made  binding  upon  His  dis¬ 
ciples.  Beyond  any  other  religious  Teacher  what¬ 
soever,  Jesus  insisted  upon  the  necessity  and  the 
duty  of  worship,  for  His  disciples. 

That  which  was  vital  in  His  own  religious  ex¬ 
perience  was  made  obligatory  for  His  disciples. 
“  Whatever  is  best  and  necessary  for  the  children 
of  genius  should  be  made  a  duty  and  a  habit  of 
lesser  men,”  wrote  a  philosopher.  Jesus  had  no 
artificial  habits.  Whatever  He  did  grew  out  of 
the  nature  of  things.  By  example  and  by  teaching 
He  taught  the  custom  of  worship.  “  What,”  asks 
James  Martineau,  “  had  Jesus  not  risen  above 
that?  Could  the  dull  preachings  and  the  drawling 
prayers  say  anything  to  Him?  What  charm  could 
He  longer  feel,  in  these  childish  Sabbath  usages, 
the  decent  dress,  the  restful  hours,  the  flowing  to¬ 
gether  of  families,  and  walking  to  the  house  of 
God  in  their  company.  Did  not  He,  above  all,  live 
in  a  constant  air  of  divine  communion,  and  mingle 
with  the  eternity  where  all  is  consecrated  alike 
Himself  a  better  sanctuary  than  He  could  ever 
find?  Yet,  He  went  at  Nazareth,  where  He  had 
been  brought  up,  He  went,  as  His  custom  was, 
into  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath  Day.”  By 
Christ's  example  and  teaching  He  made  the 
Church  and  its  aisles,  crowded  with  young  and 
old,  stand  by  day  and  night,  a  witness  to  the  world 
of  invisible  and  heavenly  things. 

Universal  experience  reinforces  Jesus’  insistence 
upon  regular  and  systematic  worship  in  church  on 


186  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


Sunday.  In  his  study  of  the  Scholar,  Emerson 
found  in  habit  the  greatest  friend  of  intellectual 
culture.  Religion  is  life,  God’s  life,  in  man’s  soul. 
But  life  develops  under  rules,  through  laws.  Dead 
things  accumulate,  and  increase  by  chance;  there  is 
no  hit  and  miss  in  the  growth  of  living  things. 
The  soil  is  dead,  and  accumulates  falling  leaves, 
boughs,  star  dusts,  just  as  coral  reefs  are  accumu¬ 
lations  of  dead  cells.  Living  things,  sheaves,  roots, 
birds,  babes, — grow.  Man’s  body  grows  by  obey¬ 
ing  the  laws  of  food,  sleep  and  exercise.  Man’s 
intellect  grows  by  reading,  reflection,  conversation 
and  travel.  Man’s  culture  grows  through  a  little 
hard  study  every  day.  By  practice  the  orator  or 
actor  wins  a  rich  resonance  for  his  voice.  Every 
singer  knows  the  peril  through  flabbiness  that  fol¬ 
lows  the  neglect  of  the  vocal  cords.  “  How  did 
you  achieve  your  supremacy?”  asked  an  actor  of 
Wendell  Phillips;  and  the  instant  answer  of  the 
orator  was :  “  By  getting  a  thousand  nights  back 
of  me.”  Turner  understood.  Talking  to  his 
pupils  he  said  :  “  Draw !  draw !  Paint,  paint,  and 
still  paint,  and  then  tear  up  your  work  and  begin 
another  canvas.”  Once,  during  an  important  ban¬ 
quet  in  Paris,  Rodin  was  seen  to  take  from  his 
pocket  a  bit  of  bronze.  Turning  it  over  and  over, 
he  soaked  his  mind  in  its  beauty.  The  greatest 
sculptor  of  modern  times  was  a  learner  up  to  the 
last  hour  of  his  life.  Now  if  the  artist  learns  to 
paint  by  painting;  if  orators  learn  to  speak  by 
speaking;  if  authors  learn  to  write  by  writing,  then 
disciples  must  learn  to  pray  and  pity,  and  love  and 
serve,  by  praying,  and  loving,  and  serving.  Genius 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY  187 


is  the  capacity  for  infinite  details  and  terrible  toil¬ 
ing.  From  His  earliest  waking  moment  to  the  last 
minute  of  conscious  life,  Jesus  practiced  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  God,  and  by  practice  increased  daily  in 
favour  with  God.  He  went  about  doing  good,  and 
practiced  service.  The  very  genius  of  His  life 
and  education  is  in  the  words,  “  And  as  His  custom 
was,  He  went  into  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath 
Day.”  It  seems,  therefore,  that  when  the  long- 
awaited  moment  arrived,  when  He  was  to  begin 
His  ministry,  that  He  went  naturally  into  the 
synagogue  on  the  Sabbath,  and  with  a  sacred  roll 
in  His  hand  stood  up  and  announced  that  the  mo¬ 
ment  for  which  the  whole  world  had  long  waited 
had  come.  In  an  act  of  worship,  He  announced 
His  programme  for  the  kingdom  of  God  and  the 
Golden  Age. 

Thoughtless  people  often  associate  rule,  habit, 
and  system  with  mediocrity,  and  think  of  genius 
in  terms  of  moods,  occasional  spurts,  and  instance 
the  spasmodic  Burns,  and  Byron.  But  the  view  is 
as  silly  as  it  is  mistaken.  There  never  lived  a  man 
of  undoubted  genius  who  did  not  control  his  life 
by  habit  and  system.  Michael  Angelo,  architect, 
sculptor,  painter,  poet,  had  the  ability  of  twenty 
talented  men,  but  he  controlled  his  genius  by  habit, 
just  as  Watt  and  Stephenson  controlled  the  steam 
engine  within  chambers  of  steel.  Bacon  and  Isaac 
Newton  arose  at  daybreak  to  begin  work  at  the 
stroke  of  the  clock.  Ability  is  like  the  wild  steed 
of  the  prairie,  it  must  be  caught,  harnessed,  and 
drilled  to  carry  man’s  burden.  The  greater  the 
gift,  the  more  rigidly  the  control  by  rule.  Witness 


188  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


Kant,  author  of  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason ,  who 
divided  his  work  and  scarcely  varied  his  plan  five 
minutes  a  day  through  forty  years.  But  this  is 
Nature’s  method.  The  arbutus  is  always  sweet — 
the  perfume  is  mixed  each  spring,  to  an  unchang¬ 
ing  formula.  The  flavour  of  the  strawberry  is 
wrought  out  by  rule. 

Summer  is  systematic,  and  the  ripeness  of  the 
harvest  is  the  outer  exhibition  of  an  inner  obedi¬ 
ence  to  law.  Spontaneity?  A  handful  of  violets 
plucked  at  dawn,  and  all  dripping  with  dew,  are 
not  fresher  than  the  songs  of  King  David,  who 
exclaimed,  “  Morning,  and  noon,  and  night  do  I 
pray.”  Wordsworth’s  reference  to  the  loveliness 
of  his  Ode  to  the  Skylark  shows  that  he  never  ne¬ 
glected  his  gift,  bestowed  by  God  and  his  fathers, 
but  without  reference  to  his  feelings  he  began 
work  at  seven  o’clock  each  day.  In  early  spring 
days,  when  the  whole  South  is  a  brilliant  flower 
garden,  when  every  wind  is  loaded  with  per¬ 
fume,  the  scientist  explains  the  loveliness  and 
the  freshness  of  the  scene  by  obedience  to  laws,  to 
a  sun  that  is  never  a  moment  late  in  its  shining,  to 
the  tides  that  ebb  and  flow  in  accordance  with 
rule,  to  the  berries,  the  grains,  the  cotton,  and  the 
wool  that  are  always  fashioned  in  accordance  with 
the  strictest  formulae,  scrupulously  obeyed.  Imag¬ 
ine  trying  to  live  in  a  world  of  irregularity,  hit 
and  miss,  and  chance!  What  if  you  wakened  to 
find  that  if  heat  made  the  coffee  hot  one  morning, 
the  flame  froze  the  water  the  next;  what  if  cane 
sugar  being  sweet  last  summer,  were  acid  this  year  ? 
What  if  the  sunbeams  that  warmed  in  the  morn- 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY  189 


mg,  froze  everything  in  the  afternoon?  What  if 
one  babe  were  born  with  two  feet,  and  two  eyes, 
and  the  next  babe  with  three  feet  and  one  eye  ?  In 
a  world  of  moods,  of  hit  and  miss,  what  is  called 
spontaneous  decisions,  man  would  go  crazy,  art 
would  be  impossible,  tools  an  idle  dream,  and  the 
very  word  science  a  figment  of  the  imagination. 
Thank  God,  we  are  in  a  world  where  the  husband¬ 
man,  the  scientist,  the  artist  and  the  Christian  are 
controlled  by  laws,  that  are  invariable.  The  great¬ 
ness  of  a  man  is  determined  by  the  number  of  the 
laws  he  learns  and  obeys.  For  laws  are  not 
weights, — but  wings ;  they  are  not  fetters,  they  are 
open  doors.  And  Jesus  controlled  His  gifts  by  law, 
lived  by  rule,  made  His  piety  systematic,  and  His 
kindness  was  a  controlled  service,  and  His  worship 
of  God  as  invariable  as  the  rise  of  the  sun. 

Of  late  the  American  people  have  been  startled 
by  what  is  called  a  crime  wave.  Our  jurists  ex¬ 
plain  the  steady,  regular  increase  in  lawlessness  by 
the  fact  that  a  generation  has  now  come  to  matur¬ 
ity  that  had  little  or  no  moral  instruction  whatso¬ 
ever.  Twenty  years  ago  the  parents  of  our  country 
gave  up  the  Sunday  School  and  church  for  their 
children,  and  transferred  the  emphasis  upon  edu¬ 
cation  to  the  intellect  for  five  days  of  the  week. 
Truant  officers  were  appointed  in  the  cities  to  see 
that  all  children  were  in  school,  daily  between  nine 
o’clock  and  three.  Parents  forced  their  children  to 
give  up  truancy,  and  made  them  study  five  hours  a 
day.  Fathers  realised  that  there  was  no  place  in 
business  for  boys  that  know  nothing  of  arithmetic, 
reading,  geography,  history,  and  their  allied  sub- 


190  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


jects.  Force,  therefore,  was  invoked  by  both  the 
state  and  the  parent.  Today,  even  for  boys  who 
intend  to  drop  out  of  school  at  fifteen,  there  are 
eight  years  of  constant  drill  and  study. 

But  when  it  comes  to  the  Ten  Commandments, 
the  general  principles  of  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
our  country,  of  the  home  and  business,  parents 
refuse  to  make  their  children  master  the  principles 
of  morals. 

Witness  these  jails  of  ours,  stuffed  with  chil¬ 
dren!  Witness  the  three  murders  within  a  little 
distance  of  this  old  church !  Witness  a  little  town 
of  twenty-five  thousand,  that  has  had  seven  mur¬ 
ders  in  one  year !  The  million  young  people 
arrested  for  stealing  last  year,  may  soon  be  two 
million!  But  the  Ten  Commandments  are  not  de¬ 
nominational,  any  more  than  the  multiplication 
table  is  denominational.  There  is  nothing  secta¬ 
rian  about  the  laws  of  our  state  or  our  country. 
And  the  laws  of  the  Christian  religion  are  natural 
laws,  that  are  as  binding  upon  Jews,  Catholics, 
Mohammedans,  Buddhists,  followers  of  Con¬ 
fucius,  as  are  the  laws  of  steam,  electricity,  or 
chemistry.  Several  sects,  for  reasons  of  self  and 
ambition,  oppose  teaching  in  the  public  school  the 
moral  principles  that  Webster  once  said  are  a  part 
of  “  the  common  law  of  our  land.”  To  prepare 
our  children  for  business  we  invoke  the  truant 
officer,  who  uses  threats  and  arrest  to  compel  chil¬ 
dren  to  attend  school,  and  acquire  knowledge 
necessary  for  self-support.  Strange  that  millions 
of  parents  refuse  to  compel  their  children  to  study 
the  fundamental  moral  principles  that  are  vital  to 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY  191 


their  success  in  life.  Little  wonder  that  men 
associate  race  hatreds,  wars,  poverty,  and  the 
collapse  of  civilisation  abroad  with  the  passing  of 
Sunday  and  moral  education.  Less  wonder  is  it 
that  men  are  beginning  to  ask  whether  the  Sunday 
has  gone  for  a  republic  that  was  based  by  our 
fathers  upon  intellectual  and  moral  illiteracy,  with 
full  training  as  to  the  great  facts  of  human  life. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  Robert  Collyer 
began  his  ministry  in  the  Church  of  the  Messiah 
by  telling  his  people  that  a  generation  before,  in 
the  Unity  Church  of  Chicago,  he  had  told  his  hear¬ 
ers  to  go  into  the  park,  forest,  or  out  upon  the  lake, 
on  Sunday,  if  they  thought  that  they  could  worship 
God  to  better  purpose  there  than  within  the  walls 
of  a  church.  And  how  he  had  found  later, 
through  experience,  that  men  who  did  not  worship 
God  at  one  time  and  at  one  place,  with  other  fami¬ 
lies,  soon  ceased  to  worship  God  at  all,  and  starved 
to  death  their  religious  faculty.  And  that  when 
men  refused  to  bow  their  knees  before  God,  they 
stopped  bowing  the  mind  and  the  heart.  And  for 
that  reason  Robert  Collyer  insisted  that  Jesus  was 
right,  and  that  the  custom  of  worship  is  abso¬ 
lutely  necessary  to  any  growth  for  the  spirit  of 
man.  Thoreau  tried  to  be  a  hermit  in  a  little  log 
cabin.  He  isolated  himself  for  study,  but  found 
that  his  mind  began  to  atrophy,  being  starved  for 
companionship.  Every  teacher  knows  that  con¬ 
tact  for  pupils  with  other  minds  and  with  the 
teacher,  is  a  stimulant  to  personal  culture. 

Centuries  ago  the  monks  tried  by  isolation  and 
the  cell  or  the  desert  to  make  the  most  of  the  soul, 


192  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


by  unceasing  prayer,  reflection,  and  denial  of  the 
body  and  its  appetites,  with  the  inevitable  result — 
they  grew  selfish,  vain,  harsh,  narrow,  and  discon¬ 
tented.  What  they  needed  was  contact  with  their 
fellows  while  they  went  about  doing  good.  The 
reflex  influence  of  selfish  club  life,  also,  illustrates 
the  same  peril.  Witness  the  decline  of  hospitality! 
What  multitudes  of  mature  people  stand  forth  iso¬ 
lated,  with  but  a  little  handful  of  friends  left! 
They  have  forgotten  how  to  keep  their  friend¬ 
ships  in  repair.  When  Darwin’s  health  broke,  and 
his  physicians  insisted  upon  his  giving  up  scientific 
study,  the  scientist  turned  toward  the  drama  and 
music,  only  to  discover  that  after  forty  years  of 
neglect  neither  comedy  nor  tragedy,  nor  opera 
meant  anything  to  him!  He  had  starved  to  death 
those  faculties  until  they  had  become  atrophied 
through  neglect.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  when 
Jesus  went  to  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath  Day, 
and  with  His  friends  fulfilled  the  duties  of  wor¬ 
ship,  He  had  behind  Him  all  the  sanctions  of  the 
intellect,  with  its  culture,  all  that  is  best  in  the 
growth  of  the  faculties  artistic,  musical,  literary 
and  scientific. 

It  is  a  sad  reflection  upon  the  superficiality  of 
the  modern  intellect,  with  its  frivolity,  and  inca¬ 
pacity  for  fundamental  thinking,  that  men  are 
found,  who  say  they  need  Sunday  for  recreation, 
physical  exercise,  and  that  they  are  too  tired  to 
adopt  for  themselves  Jesus’  method  of  self-culture. 
This  is  equivalent  to  a  confession  by  some  men 
that  they  are  not  equal  intellectually  to  the  support 
of  a  family,  and  at  the  same  time  do  their  part  to 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY  193 


defend  and  use  aright  the  Sunday  as  the  only  col¬ 
lege  day,  library  day,  home  day,  for  the  working 
people  and  for  foreigners,  who  need  instruction  in 
morals,  and  American  culture.  Therefore,  by  their 
example,  they  steadily  break  down  the  Sunday, 
undermine  the  Christian  religion,  and  are  what 
Webster  called  “  unconfessed  enemies  of  the  Re¬ 
public.”  They  expect  ministers,  teachers,  and  a 
few  men  of  extraordinary  ability,  to  educate  in 
morals  the  children  and  youth  of  the  land,  while 
they  sponge  upon  the  nation  and  its  resources. 
Still  others  say  they  can  get  more  out  of  the  news¬ 
papers  in  the  early  Sunday  morning  hours  than 
they  can  out  of  a  church,  or  out  of  the  sermon, 
preached  by  indifferent  thinkers.  But  Jesus  did 
not  enter  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath  because  the 
preacher  was  His  superior,  or  because  the  sermon 
contained  more  wisdom  than  He  could  find  in 
certain  books.  Jesus  entered  the  synagogue  for 
worship,  prayer,  friendship,  reflection,  and  that  He 
might  meet  and  help  His  fellow-men,  in  a  great 
moment  when  all  souls  were  warm  and  plastic  and 
struck  through  and  through  with  light.  His  mere 
example  refreshed  His  neighbours,  rebuked  their 
folly,  inspired  their  loyalty,  freshened  their  ideals. 
How  shall  the  fifty  millions  of  native  Americans 
assimilate  perhaps  sixty-two  millions  of  foreign¬ 
ers?  Is  there  any  better  way  than  by  turning  one 
day  out  of  every  seven  into  a  college  and  library 
day  for  the  soul,  when  all  adults  bring  to  the  con¬ 
duct  and  character  of  thirty  million  children  and 
youth  the  great  divine  principles  of  duty,  and 
destiny,  of  love  and  obedience  to  God,  and  to 


194  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


country,  and  to  God’s  dear  Son,  the  great  prin¬ 
ciples  of  Christian  conduct  and  character.  Could 
such  a  consummation  be  brought  about,  despite  the 
alien  radicals  who  fear  nothing  so  much  as  the 
increase  of  the  Christian  spirit,  this  land  could  be 
made,  within  five  years,  to  be  a  kind  of  new  Eden, 
a  paradise,  without  hate,  poverty,  moral  illiteracy 
or  crime. 

Not  less  striking  was  Jesus’  insistence  that  true 
worship  is  not  solitary,  but  social.  When  flint  and 
steel  come  together,  something  leaps  forth  that  was 
not  in  either.  Botanists  know  that  what  the  indi¬ 
vidual  cell  cannot  do,  many  cells  easily  accomplish. 
Just  because  innumerable  leaves  work  together, 
they  slowly  build  the  forest  tree.  Because  mil¬ 
lions  of  vital  cells  unite,  they  build  the  human 
body  with  its  strength  and  beauty.  The  family 
cannot  exist  until  two  unite  their  affection.  Defoe 
tells  us  that  everything  started  for  Robinson  Cru¬ 
soe  when  the  man  Friday  arrived,  for  two  meant 
the  beginning  of  a  society.  Every  orator  knows 
that  when  the  audience  is  scattered,  the  argument 
moves  slowly,  but  when  the  room  is  crowded  and 
shoulders  touch,  the  sacred  spark  leaps  from  heart 
to  heart  and  soon  all  take  flame.  In  the  success  of 
great  revivals  and  political  meetings  a  large  part 
is  played  by  physical  and  mental  contact  of  its 
assembled  thousands.  The  probabilities  are  that 
certain  invisible  and  vital  elements  in  each  indi¬ 
vidual  stream  forth  into  the  common  air,  and 
create  a  new  atmosphere  that  not  only  becomes 
warm,  summery  and  electric,  but  which  is  also 
charged  with  unseen  and  almost  omnipotent  forces5 


NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


195 


In  the  new  atmosphere  surrounding  the  multi¬ 
tude  made  up  of  poor  and  rich,  wise  and  igno¬ 
rant,  young  and  old,  misunderstandings  evaporate, 
hatreds  dissolve,  and  enmities  disappear.  That  is 
why  a  class  church  is  treason  to  Jesus,  who  loved 
society.  All  hunters  know  that,  left  alone,  the 
lighted  match  goes  out,  therefore  the  hunter  first 
brings  together  many  twigs  and  boughs,  of  various 
sizes  and  lengths,  and  then  strikes  the  match, 
knowing  that  the  flame  will  pass  from  bough  to 
bough,  until  the  whole  becomes  a  mass  of  coal. 
And  this  was  Jesus’  method  of  unifying  the  classes, 
and  filling  up  the  gulf  between  Dives  and  Tazarus. 
The  Gospel  is  the  great  unifier  of  the  races.  The 
Church  is  a  family  of  which  all  the  classes  are 
members ;  it  is  a  school  in  which  all  men  are  pupils ; 
the  Church  is  a  hospital,  in  which  all  find  healing 
and  medicine,  and  this  custom  of  worship  in  God’s 
presence  on  the  Sabbath  Day,  when  all  classes  come 
together  to  sing  and  pray,  and  resolve,  all  being  in 
the  spirit  of  love  and  good  will,  represents  Christ’s 
plan  for  solving  all  economic  and  industrial  prob¬ 
lems.  Today,  if  all  rich  men  and  poor  would  come 
together  as  brothers,  to  swear  fidelity  to  the  same 
Master,  to  breathe  their  common  prayers  unto  a 
common  Father,  and  to  realise  that  the  burdens  of 
one  are  the  burdens  of  all,  to  remember  that  the 
Church  is  Christ's  League  of  Pity,  that  its  mem¬ 
bers  make  up  His  “  Beloved  Society,”  and  that 
whoever  injures  his  brother  has  been  guilty  of  trea¬ 
son  toward  the  disciple  band,  that  “  each  is  for  all, 
and  all  for  each,”  all  hate  and  strife  would  evapo¬ 
rate,  poverty  and  crime  would  disappear,  and  the 


196  NO  CULTURE  WITHOUT  STUDY 


world  would  enter  upon  an  era  of  prosperity  and 
peace.  Men  have  tried  many  expedients,  many 
laws,  many  weapons,  but  some  day  they  will  try 
Jesus’  plan,  and  then  the  discordant,  warring 
classes  will  find  that  the  paths  of  worship  are 
paths  that  lead  to  social  peace,  brotherhood  and 
prosperity. 


XIV 

WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST! 

"  Thus  saith  the  Lord;  .  .  .  this  year  thou  shalt 
die/'' — JER.  xxviii:  16. 

IN  view  of  his  few  brief  years,  man  has  the 
endowment  of  a  god,  the  arena  of  an  insect. 
The  sand  fly  is  born  at  daylight,  dies  at  dark, 
but  its  life  is  long — for  a  sand  fly.  Man  lives 
through  seventy  years,  but  these  years  are  all  too 
short  for  a  being  made  in  God’s  image.  The 
vast  endowments  of  the  soul;  its  mastery  over 
the  forces  of  land  and  sea  and  sky;  its  unfulfilled 
places,  all  assume  an  existence,  not  of  seventy 
years,  but  of  seventy  times  seventy  years.  The 
average  man  spends  his  entire  career  in  mastering 
one  art,  one  profession,  one  industry,  while  all  the 
other  realms  must  be  postponed  to  another  career. 
Only  now  and  then  is  there  a  Leonardo,  or  a 
Michael  Angelo,  who  masters  architecture,  sculp¬ 
ture,  painting,  music,  civil  engineering  and  all  in 
one  life.  Biography  illustrates  the  brevity  of  our 
career.  Our  country  has  one  inventor  with  two 
thousand  patents  to  his  credit,  but  he  has  spent 
seventy-two  years  on  the  electric  light,  the  phono¬ 
graph  and  the  battery.  In  the  world  of  literature, 
Coleridge  was  unique,  but  dying,  he  left  one  hun¬ 
dred  manuscripts  carefully  outlined  and  big  with 

197 


198  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


promise,  but  not  one  of  them  complete.  Shaftes¬ 
bury  was  the  leader  of  his  generation  in  philan¬ 
thropy,  who  worked  for  coal  miners,  chimney 
sweeps,  orphans  and  castaways ;  but  dying, 
Shaftesbury  said  that  he  had  just  started  his 
reforms. 

Coming  to  the  end  the  falling  statesman,  the  dy¬ 
ing  mother,  the  gifted  boy,  all  exclaim,  “  Too 
short!  Too  short !”  Moses  felt  the  bitterness  of 
life’s  brevity,  and  expressed  that  feeling  by  saying 
that  his  little  life  was  like  a  falling  leaf,  a  fading 
flower,  a  dissolving  cloud,  the  summer’s  brook,  the 
night  watch  between  two  days  of  battle,  the  tale 
told  around  the  evening’s  fire,  but  forgotten  when 
the  morning  comes.  David,  the  poet  king,  also 
rebelled  against  life’s  brevity;  his  life  was  like  the 
flight  of  a  bird,  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  the  stay  of 
a  postman,  the  glimpse  of  a  passing  ship.  The 
wise  king  felt  it;  his  life  was  like  the  flight  of  the 
eagle,  that  left  no  more  mark  upon  the  air,  like 
the  keel  of  a  ship  that  leaves  no  mark  upon  the 
face  of  the  water.  Man  is  the  weaver,  the  days 
are  flying  shuttles,  the  earth  furnishes  the  frame¬ 
work,  slowly  the  purple  cloth  is  woven,  but  sud¬ 
denly  an  enemy  comes,  to  break  the  loom,  and  rend 
away  the  cloth,  and  ruin  the  weaver’s  house.  Oh, 
this  beautiful  world!  How  eagerly  men  plan  for 
many  years  packed  with  achievements!  Looking 
out  upon  the  stars,  walking  under  the  tranquil  sky, 
beholding  the  beauty  of  the  summer,  singing  the 
harvest  song  midst  shock  and  sheaves,  exulting 
midst  the  majesty  and  beauty  of  the  winter — what 
k  lover  of  his  fellow-men  but  wishes  to  stay  in  this 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  199 


beautiful  world  at  least  a  thousand  years?  Then 
comes  the  warning  as  to  life’s  brevity,  “  Man’s 
days  are  as  sparks  falling  upon  a  river.” 

Consider  the  contrast  between  material  achieve¬ 
ments  that  abide,  and  the  invisible  life  of  the  soul 
that  dissolves  like  a  cloud  filled  with  golden  light. 
Go  into  the  museum;  lo,  the  bird  tracks  are  fixed 
in  sandstone,  that  received  their  impression  ages 
ago.  Enter  old  Warwick  Castle.  Here  are  dented 
helmets,  broken  shields,  nicked  swords,  used  by 
King  Alfred’s  men,  lo!  all  the  knights  are  dust! 
Study  the  Egyptian  room  at  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art,  and  you  behold  the  mummies  yel¬ 
low,  dry,  falling  before  the  touch  of  a  finger;  but 
there,  too,  are  the  shrivelled  seeds  of  wheat,  that 
ripened  three  thousand  years  ago.  Sown  on  good 
soil  that  grain  will  swell,  germinate,  put  forth  tall 
stalks,  grow  green  and  gold  in  the  sun,  and  being 
sown  again,  with  the  process  repeated  for  fifteen 
summers,  lo,  there  is  bread  for  the  fifteen  hundred 
millions  of  the  children  of  men.  Study  the  stump 
of  the  redwood  tree  whose  seed  was  dropped  into 
the  soil  twenty-five  centuries  ago,  and  the  scientist 
finds  some  rings  that  represent  years  of  heavy 
rain,  and  other  narrow  rings  that  represent  years 
of  drought.  Needle  and  leaf  were  monument 
builders  that  left  a  permanent  memorial  behind 
them  in  the  Mariposa  groves  of  California. 
Strangely  moved,  the  worker  turns  from  the  seem¬ 
ing  permanency  of  things  in  wood  and  stone,  and 
notes  the  fleeting,  transient  element  in  the  noblest 
lives.  The  career  of  parent,  patriot  and  teacher  is 
like  unto  the  shadow  that  falls  upon  the  wheat- 


200  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


field  when  a  cloud  passes  between  the  sun  and  the 
earth.  The  influence  of  the  singer,  the  artist  and 
the  orator  seems  as  fragile  and  evanescent  as  the 
landscapes  etched  by  the  angel  of  the  frost  upon 
the  window  in  January.  There  is  a  bloom  upon 
the  cheek  of  the  peach  and  the  plum  that  is  de¬ 
stroyed  by  one  touch  of  the  hand;  and  thus  the 
work  of  many  a  hero  sometimes  seems  to  be  as 
fleeting  and  perishable  as  that  delicate  flush  upon 
the  fruit.  But  man  longs  to  be  remembered.  He 
wishes  to  build,  not  in  ice,  that  dissolves,  but  in 
granite,  that  abides.  Then  comes  the  warning: 
“  Thy  days  are  like  the  foam  upon  the  crest  of  the 
wave,  iridescent  for  a  moment,  then  broken  and 
dissolved  forever.”  Verily  the  time  is  short! 
Therefore,  “  what  thou  doest,  do  quickly!” 

Now  it  was  the  sense  of  the  shortness  of  His 
career  that  strained  the  Saviour  of  men  to  the  most 
intense  activity.  History  contains  the  record  of  no 
life  that  was  so  fruitful  as  his  career  that  was 
packed  with  good  deeds.  Beginning  His  work  at 
thirty  years  of  age,  Jesus  toiled  under  an  overhang¬ 
ing  cloud  that  was  not  black  with  impending 
gloom  but  bright  with  approaching  glory.  He  tells 
us  plainly  that  He  did  not  know  what  the  future 
held  in  store  as  to  the  time  or  the  manner  of  His 
death.  In  view  of  His  open  break  with  the  State 
and  the  Church  He  felt  His  end  could  not  be  far 
off.  Under  the  pressure,  therefore,  of  the  thought 
that  His  time  was  short,  His  mind  fairly  effulged 
with  great  thoughts.  His  days  were  packed  with 
memorable  deeds. 

He  was  not  content  with  opening  the  furrow 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  201 


and  sowing  a  few  handfuls  of  grain — whoever 
tries  to  write  the  life  of  Christ  will  discover  that  all 
His  days  are  like  tropic  fields,  where  the  flowers 
and  the  rich  herbs  grow  up  so  thick  and  luxuriant 
that  they  choke  the  wagon  wheels.  Every  morn¬ 
ing  He  wakened  to  unexampled  ardour,  and  cease¬ 
less  activity.  His  genius  struck  off  brilliant  para¬ 
bles  as  sparks  fly  from  the  blacksmith’s  hammer, 
or  as  stars  leap  into  being  under  the  stroke  of 
God's  omnipotence.  His  so-called  miracles  were 
benefactions  for  the  poor.  Upon  a  single  day  He 
fed  the  hungry,  opened  fountains  to  lost  pilgrims, 
lighted  many  a  torch  for  the  dark  night  in  which 
the  pilgrim  floundered.  Often,  when  every  man 
wrent  to  his  own  house,  it  is  said,  with  strange 
pathos,  that  Jesus  went  into  the  mountain,  there 
to  prepare  His  soul  for  new  instruction  and 
richer  deeds  of  kindness  when  another  day  had 
come.  What  motive  impelled  Jesus  to  this  intense 
activity?  The  bow  flings  an  arrow  toward  its 
mark,  and  the  Lord  and  Master  of  us  all  tells  us 
plainly  that  the  night  cometh,  that  His  time  is 
short,  that  when  the  morrow’s  morrow  doth  come 
He  must  give  His  account  of  the  work  He  had 
done.  Fearing  for  the  Master’s  life  through  our 
zeal  Jesus’  disciples  led  Him  to  a  boat  and  put  out 
upon  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  that  He  might  find  sleep 
and  restoration. 

Another  reaction  from  the  sense  of  life’s  brevity 
is  the  spirit  of  unity,  order  and  movement  it  gives 
to  the  advancing  days.  The  danger  of  life  is  aim¬ 
lessness.  Soul  drifting  means  the  rapids  and  the 
precipice,  and  finally  the  fatal  plunge.  Every  trav- 


202  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


eler  who  plans  a  visit  to  some  foreign  land  lays  out 
his  program,  and  marks  out  a  definite  plan.  What 
if  some  youth  should  go  to  the  ticket  office  at  the 
central  station,  and  say,  “  Give  me  a  ticket.”  And 
when  the  agent  answered,  “To  what  city?  Chi¬ 
cago?  Los  Angeles?  London?”  And  what  if 
the  youth  should  answer,  “  Oh,  it  makes  no  differ¬ 
ence — I  just  want  to  go  somewhere.”  Is  not  that 
an  illustration  of  the  way  multitudes  drift  aim¬ 
lessly  from  day  to  day  and  from  year  to  year? 
Having  no  realisation  of  the  brevity  of  life,  or  the 
importance  of  each  week,  their  one  aim  is  to  kill 
time.  These  idling  social  parasites  are  saying, 
“  How  shall  we  kill  January  and  February?  In 
Havana  ?  In  Pasadena  ?  In  Egypt  ?  ”  And  in  the 
spring  they  say,  “  Well,  I  suppose  we  must  decide 
what  we  must  do !  What  a  bore  it  is  to  determine 
whether  we  shall  go  to  the  mountains  or  to  the 
seashore.”  At  the  end  of  each  day  they  wonder 
how  they  can  kill  the  evening,  as  if  time  stuff  was 
not  the  basis  of  greatness!  As  if  all  influence  was 
not  compacted  hours!  As  if  a  great  career  was 
something  other  than  days  that  march  in  solid  col¬ 
umns  toward  a  determined  goal! 

It  is  purpose  that  turns  a  mob  into  a  regiment. 
It  is  a  thought  and  motive  that  organises  sounds 
into  songs.  It  is  a  blue  print  that  makes  aimless 
bricks  come  together  in  a  library  or  gallery.  What 
biting  sarcasm  is  in  Dante’s  portrait  of  the  soul 
drifters!  Concerning  that  rich  and  pampered 
Florentine  Prince  and  Princess,  Dante  said, 
“  These  are  they  who  eat  and  drink  and  wear 
clothes — but  no  more.  Therefore  were  they 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  203 


plunged  into  boiling  mud.”  What  the  poet  means 
is  that  these  triflers,  these  industrial  paupers,  these 
epicureans,  these  pleasure  mongers,  were  of  fiery 
mud  here,  and  beyond  will  again  become  boiling 
mud.  No  general  waging  a  successful  campaign 
waits  and  drifts.  Rather,  does  he  organise  his 
regiments  and  make  them  march  toward  a  goal. 
A  plan  by  some  Goethals  stands  behind  every 
spadeful  of  dirt,  and  moves  toward  a  goal, 
called  a  Panama  waterway  to  the  Pacific.  The 
measure  of  this  year’s  work  will  be  the  spirit  of 
unity  and  purpose  that  makes  the  life  march  as 
one  solid  column  of  days,  toward  a  far-off  goal. 
In  the  interest,  therefore,  of  prosperity,  influence 
and  increasing  character,  let  every  youth  invoke 
the  motive  of  life’s  brevity  and  the  sense  that,  if 
art  is  long,  the  time  is  short  and  the  emergency 
immediate. 

Another  impression  gained  from  the  survey  of 
Jesus’  life  is  His  anticipation  of  the  hour  of  home¬ 
going,  when  He  should  return  to  that  imperial 
palace  from  whence  He  came,  and  give  a  report  to 
His  Father  of  the  work  He  had  accomplished  upon 
the  far  flung  battle  frontier.  Over  and  over  again 
He  talks  of  the  coming  revealing  day  when  man 
shall  come  home  after  his  fierce  conflict  with  sin 
upon  this  far-off  battlefield.  Then  shall  all  the 
good  and  great  assemble  to  give  Him  greeting  and 
tumultuous  welcome.  What  a  scene  is  that  which 
Jesus  opened  up  in  His  description  of  the  Great 
Assize  and  the  hour  when  honours  and  awards 
were  distributed.  He  uttered  no  silly  twaddle 
about  doing  work  for  work’s  sake,  and  being 


204  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


good  for  the  sake  of  mere  goodness,  for  all  that 
was  a  mere  matter  of  fact  to  be  assumed  by  every 
man  with  an  ounce  of  intellect. 

But  He  talked  openly  about  the  great  day  of 
awards,  and  used  imagery  a  thousand  times  more 
striking  than  that  scene  when  the  French  Govern¬ 
ment  distributes  its  prizes  to  the  students  and  com¬ 
petitors  in  painting,  music,  poetry  and  dramatic 
literature.  With  powerful  hand  He  draws  back 
the  curtains  and  shows  us  His  Father  upon  the 
throne  surrounded  by  all  heroic  souls  out  of  all 
ages  and  climes,  an  assembly  of  the  good  and  great. 
One  by  one  the  names  are  called  out  just  as  a 
harper  strikes  note  after  note.  For  one  moment 
the  individual  disciple  is  to  be  the  centre  of  the 
scene,  upon  whom  all  eyes  are  focussed.  One  by 
one  those  whom  the  man  has  blessed  or  cursed  will 
rise,  and  their  testimony  be  given.  Every  evil 
deed  shall  report  itself  at  that  hour.  Every  de¬ 
flection  from  honour,  every  wicked  evasion,  every 
refusal  of  the  great  conviction,  every  hidden  lie 
and  theft  and  every  evil  influence  shall  be  there. 
Men  shall  be  seen,  not  as  they  think  themselves  to 
be,  not  as  their  friends  suppose,  but  as  they  really 
are!  Some  of  the  obscure  ones  of  the  earth,  who 
have  been  true  to  the  high  ideals,  shall  be  lifted  to 
thrones  of  influence !  And  some  who  have  been 
first  shall  be  last,  as  they  are  stripped  of  earthly 
honours,  and  in  the  presence  of  revered  fathers 
and  noble  mothers  shall  shrink  away,  because  they 
have  no  place  among  those  who  are  true  and  faith¬ 
ful.  And  the  verdict  is  “  Of  him  will  I  be  ashamed 
in  the  presence  of  My  Father  and  His  angels.’' 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  205 


Christ’s  picture  of  the  Last  Judgment  is  the  most 
highly  wrought  thing  in  literature.  What  man  can 
read  it  without  the  anticipation  of  that  great  day  of 
reward  and  penalty?  What  an  appeal  to  self- 
respect!  What  a  quickening  of  pride  of  blood 
and  family!  What  an  uprising  of  indignation 
against  every  influence  that  is  evil!  Oh,  all  yet 
young  hearts,  keep  ever  before  you  the  outlook  of 
that  great  day.  As  young  scholars  look  forward 
to  the  day  of  testing  before  the  noble  teacher; 
as  young  soldiers  anticipate  the  hour  when  they 
shall  make  a  report  to  their  brave  general;  live 
ever  as  in  the  Great  Taskmaster’s  eye.  Prepare 
your  souls  that  you  may  not  enter  into  unknown, 
unwelcomed,  dishonoured,  but  rather  awaited  for 
by  a  great  company,  who  come  out  to  meet  and 
greet  you,  and  with  trumpets  and  banners  bring 
you  in  to  be  greeted  by  the  heroes  of  the  great 
convictions. 

Because  the  time  is  short,  in  laying  out  his  plans 
for  the  best  possible  use  of  his  life,  the  prudent 
man  will  relate  himself  distinctly  to  those  move¬ 
ments  that  make  for  human  betterment.  During 
these  troubled  and  tumultuous  days  men  carry 
heavy  hearts.  A  million  or  more  in  India  and 
China — our  consuls  say — starve  to  death  every 
year.  The  men  and  women  engaged  in  the  relief 
work  in  the  Near  East  and  Europe  say  that  several 
million  children  must  be  given  at  least  half  a  loaf 
every  day  if  they  are  to  grow  good  bodies.  Not 
one  of  you,  surely,  can  go  into  your  house,  and 
pull  down  the  curtains  and  feast,  unless  you  first 
stuff  wax  in  your  ears  to  keep  from  being  dis- 


206  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


turbed  by  the  bitter  cry  of  these  children.  If  some 
are  freezing  in  the  snow  outside,  for  those  inside 
the  winter’s  fire  turns  into  ashes.  Men  who  love 
their  fellows  must  share  their  burdens.  The  race 
is  become  one.  Every  citizen  must  put  away  his 
selfish  interests,  and  his  racial  prejudices,  and  be¬ 
come  a  citizen  of  the  world.  Not  less  important  is 
it,  for  each  man  to  reflect  that  if  this  year  should 
be  his  last  that  he  must  make  provision  for  his 
family,  and  safeguard  their  future.  Just  as  cap¬ 
tains  when  the  barometer  falls,  even  though  the 
sky  is  perfectly  clear,  prepare  for  the  rush  and 
thunder  of  the  inevitable  cyclone;  just  as  house¬ 
holders,  upon  the  approach  of  winter,  lay  up  a 
store  of  wood  and  coal  against  the  bitter  frost,  so 
good  men  have  their  duties  in  founding  the  family 
that  doubles  their  happiness.  No  man  has  a  right 
to  bring  children  into  the  world,  without  making 
provision  against  hunger  and  cold,  in  the  event 
of  their  being  orphaned.  Every  sentiment  of  hon¬ 
our  rebukes  parents  who  spend  as  much  as  they 
earn  and  who  drift,  thinking  that  society  will  lift 
the  shield  of  protection  above  those  for  whom  the 
father  was  thoughtless  and  indifferent.  Some  of 
the  darkest  tragedies  ever  known  have  come  from 
the  unexpected  death  of  a  careless  husband.  Who 
has  not  known  at  heart  one  noble  woman  of  posi¬ 
tion,  culture  and  friendship,  left  in  the  hour  of  her 
husband’s  death,  exposed  to  the  fury  of  life’s 
storm;  left  to  move  now  from  a  home  among  her 
friends  to  some  tenement  region,  and  then  to  sell 
her  furniture,  piece  by  piece,  until  at  last  she  is  in 
a  garret,  cold  and  cheerless?  How  wonderful  that 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  207 


such  an  one  in  that  dark  hour  maintains  a  beauti¬ 
ful  faith  and  a  forelook  of  better  things  to  come, 
keeping  ever  the  note  of  distinction  in  her  heart! 
When  the  tragedy  is  complete,  what  indignant 
emotions  arise  in  the  hearts  of  the  friends  of  that 
careless  husband  and  father  who  was  so  indifferent 
to  the  future!  Considerations  of  prudence  and 
honour  should  lead  every  citizen  to  reflect  that  his 
year  may  be  his  last  year.  All  his  plans  should  be 
wise  plans,  representing  thrift,  economy  and  safety 
for  those  who  dwell  within  the  golden  circle  of 
his  home. 

Because  this  new  year  may  be  his  last  year, 
many  a  man  will  do  well  to  linger  in  memory  upon 
the  years  that  are  past.  It  is  often  said  that  the 
past  is  irreparable;  that  once  the  water  has  gone 
over  the  dam  it  cannot  be  recovered;  that  the  evil 
that  men  do  lives  after  them,  and  that  yesterdays 
hold  a  record  that  can  never  be  changed.  More 
than  forty  years  ago,  out  in  a  Western  city,  upon 
the  edge  of  an  Indian  reservation  that  was  about 
to  be  thrown  open  to  settlers,  there  stood  a  covered 
wagon  of  an  immigrant,  in  which  were  an  old  man 
and  his  nephew.  Hard  by  was  a  farmer’s  home, 
with  whom  the  two  immigrants  boarded,  and  had 
their  daily  meals.  One  night  the  uncle  and  his 
nephew  disagreed,  and,  packing  his  satchel,  the 
youth  bade  good-by  to  his  uncle  and  to  the  farm¬ 
er’s  family  and  started  back  to  his  old  home.  The 
next  morning  that  farmer  rushed  to  a  neighbour’s 
house  to  say  that  this  uncle  had  been  killed,  plainly 
by  his  nephew  and  that  five  thousand  dollars  that 
the  uncle  had  upon  his  person,  with  which  to  buy 


208  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


the  new  farm,  had  been  stolen.  Soon  the  officers 
of  the  law  overtook  that  nephew,  brought  him  back 
to  the  scene  of  the  crime,  tried  and  executed  the 
boy.  Shortly  after,  the  farmer  sold  his  farm  and 
moved  to  another  State  and  the  memory  of  the 
crime  passed  out  of  men’s  minds. 

Thirty  years  came  and  went  again.  One  day 
an  aged  man  reappeared  at  the  old  farm,  that  he 
had  sold  so  many  years  before.  He  returned  to 
say  that  the  nephew  was  innocent — that  he  himself 
had  slain  that  boy's  uncle,  and  stolen  the  five  thou¬ 
sand  dollars;  that  in  another  State  he  had  pros¬ 
pered,  but  that  the  load  had  become  too  heavy  to 
carry;  that  he  hungered  for  penalty.  Before  the 
judge  he  lifted  up  his  hand  and  said,  “  I  am  a  per¬ 
jurer,  I  am  a  thief,  I  am  a  murderer,”  and  then, 
within  a  few  weeks,  in  the  little  jail,  he  fell  upon 
death.  This  law  of  retribution  works  remorse¬ 
lessly.  Every  wicked  man  must  make  confession 
and  restitution  here  or  yonder.  Last  spring  a 
great  business  man  passed  in  review  a  career  some¬ 
what  dramatic  of  a  notorious  character.  He  said, 
“  That  man  has  sold  his  soul  unto  the  devil.  Be¬ 
ginning  in  a  good  home,  with  everything  in  favour 
of  an  honest  life,  he  has  at  last  gone  down,  step 
by  step,  until  he  has  become  a  moral  idiot.  Evil 
has  at  last  become  his  good.”  And  then  he  told  the 
story  of  the  loss  of  a  man’s  soul;  how  he  had  be¬ 
trayed  confidence  and  been  charged  with  the  misuse 
of  trust  funds;  how  he  had  reappeared  in  a  West¬ 
ern  State  and,  once  again  under  suspicion,  was 
saved  by  a  fire  that  burned  all  documents.  Then 
came  another  removal  to  a  distant  State,  with 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  209 


other  deflections  from  the  laws  of  honour  in  the 
college,  until  he  had  to  leave  that  California  town 
within  twenty-four  hours.  At  last,  touching  the 
bottom,  he  robbed  a  mission  of  its  trust  funds  and 
clothed  his  family  and  paid  the  expense  for  his  own 
passions  with  what  had  been  given  by  the  poor  for 
the  endowment  of  their  own  work  and  ended  with 
a  “  plant  ”  against  a  bookkeeper,  to  conceal  his 
own  sins.  “  In  a  moral  universe  can  that  man 
conceal  a  horde  accumulated  by  theft?  Will  not 
the  day  come  when  he  will  hear  sounding  through 
the  air,  ‘  Thou  whited  sepulchre !  ’  and  the  thun¬ 
derbolt  of  an  outraged  God  strike  him  dead  with 
a  perjury  upon  his  mildewed  lips!  Can  a  wicked 
man  prosper  by  wickedness?  When  he  has  not 
one  single  morsel  of  food  or  thread  of  raiment 
that  other  hands  did  not  create?  Wisdom  refuses 
to  believe  it.”  But  that  verdict  of  this  man  of 
large  experience  is  based  on  a  partial  outlook. 
Many  a  wicked  man  has  prospered  in  this  life  and 
to  the  end.  For  the  complete  epic  there  must  be 
added  the  dramatic  chapter  that  comes  through 
“  The  Life  Beyond.”  Sometime,  somewhere,  that 
man  will  have  to  lift  his  hand,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  good  and  the  great,  and  of  a  just  God, 
and  cry  out,  “  Thief !  ”  “  Perjurer !  ”  “  Liar !  ” 

“  Unclean !  Unclean !  ”  “  Some  men’s  sins  go 

beforehand  unto  judgment,  and  some  men’s  sins 
follow  after.”  But  there  may  be  recovery,  through 
the  fires  of  full  confession  and  restitution,  that  con¬ 
sume  the  crime,  burn  out  the  deadly  germs,  and 
who  knows  but  that  there  may  be  a  partial  recov¬ 
ery  to  manhood  maimed  and  scarred  and  dwarfed. 


210  WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST? 


but  yet  with  enough  of  soil  left  for  the  seed  of 
truth  that  long  time  may  begin  the  new  growth. 

Soon,  for  many  of  you,  youth  will  pass,  and  old 
age  come.  To  those  who  have  borne  for  many 
years  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  the  signs  of 
the  approaching  end  must  be  welcome.  When  the 
traveler  nears  the  shores  of  Europe  in  search  of 
health  and  recovery  he  welcomes  the  indications 
that  he  is  nearing  historic  lands  and  great  cities 
and  the  capitals  of  old  civilisations.  In  that  mo¬ 
ment  he  forgets  the  books  and  games  with  which 
he  has  filled  the  days  of  the  long  and  sometimes 
nauseating  voyage.  Many  of  us  are  approaching 
another,  the  unseen  continent.  Those  occupations 
and  professions  with  which  you  have  filled  in  your 
years  will  soon  lose  their  charm.  You  have  for¬ 
gotten  the  trifles  of  a  day  and  remember  the  perma¬ 
nent  things  that  shall  abide  death  itself.  It  is  bet¬ 
ter  so.  Nothing  but  good  can  befall  a  good  man, 
here  or  beyond.  And  other  groups  have  still  a  long 
march  over  the  continent  of  the  years.  Beware, 
then,  of  over-stressing  the  things  that  pass.  Guard 
against  avarice  and  consuming  ambition.  Take 
time  for  your  friendships.  Keep  the  best  wine  of 
life’s  feast  for  those  to  whom  you  owe  the  most. 
Make  yourself  to  mean  so  much  of  happiness  to 
those  that  love  you  that  when  you  pass  it  will  be 
as  if  a  star  had  fallen  out  of  the  sky. 

Some  men  there  are  that  bulk  little  in  the  body, 
but  they  have  compacted  such  treasure  of  character 
that  the  mere  entrance  into  their  presence  is  as  if 
one  had  come  out  of  the  night  and  the  storm  into 
a  warm,  bright  room.  Some  men  are  as  depressing 


WHAT  IF  THIS  YEAR  BE  THE  LAST?  211 


as  a  mass  of  black  ice  on  a  northern  hillside,  and 
others  there  are  whose  very  presence  makes  you 
think  of  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  life’s  weary 
land.  Your  industry  is  but  the  scaffolding  of  your 
life.  Soon  the  scaffolding  will  be  pulled  down,  but 
the  structure  of  thought  and  feeling  will  abide. 
The  real  treasure  of  your  life  is  not  that  which 
lies  back  of  you.  Your  life  is  in  the  future.  Yes¬ 
terday  is  the  granary,  holding  the  seed  for  the 
morrow’s  sowing,  but  the  future  holds  the  moist 
fields.  Yesterday  holds  all  the  brilliant  threads, 
but  today  is  weaving  the  glorious  texture  of  char¬ 
acter  that  shall  outlast  purple  and  silk  of  the  mor¬ 
row.  Blessed  is  the  man  who  can  serenely  look 
back  to  yesterday,  who  works  wisely  in  his  today 
but  realises  that  his  real  possessions  are  in  the 
future,  across  whose  threshold  we  are  all  today 
slowly  moving. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Princeton  T 


leologica 


Seminary 


Libraries 


012  01232  2816 


Date  Due 

M  . 

V  •  '  - 

1  i  Q 

k 

♦ 

